


specialist

by Bounemr



Category: DCU, Miraculous Ladybug, Persona Series
Genre: Coffee Lover Tim Drake, Coffee Shops, Expanded Magic Universe, Gen, Inspired by Coffee Talk, Original Miraculous Jewels, POV Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Swearing, one oc is an incubus so some minor referenced sexual themes, the neverending search for the best coffee in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounemr/pseuds/Bounemr
Summary: Ladybug and Red Robin are on a very important quest to find the best coffee in Paris. They find a new contender, and quickly realize that more is happening than they understand.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Original Character(s), Tim Drake & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Tim Drake & Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	specialist

“Hey, Ladybug, I found a promising lead. You free to follow up on it tonight?”

“Tonight?” Marinette frowns. She’ll take any promising leads they can find, but it’s getting late and she does have school tomorrow. “How promising?”

The pleased voice in her communicator laughs. “Back alley, hidden stuff. You know, like all the best leads.”

Marinette hisses. Tempting. It’s so tempting. She really should go to sleep and follow up on this in the morning when she has more time but… “I’m in. Send me your location.”

“Already sent.”

She really is this predictable, isn’t she? Then again, so is he. “Be there in five.”

Marinette quickly checks her yo-yo, finds the marker sent to her and maps out her course. From atop the Eiffel tower, she tracks her route and eyes her distant target, and then jumps. Practiced, fluid motions turn her fall into flying, and she soars through the city, a woman on a mission, not slowing down for anything or anyone.

When she arrives at the rendezvous point, she alights on a rooftop next to one of Paris’ special guests. Red Robin, who ostensibly is trying to help them track down Hawk Moth, but who, for tonight, is tracking down something much, much more serious.

Coffee.

All business, Marinette crouches next to Red Robin, eyeing the unimpressive coffee shop at the base of the next building. It’s not much, but none of the best places are. Even Marinette’s parent’s bakery is just a shop on the end of a long line of other retailers.

But this place isn’t like her bakery, no. This place is something more at home in Gotham than Paris. Hiding in the shadow of the tall building the heroes are currently perched on, with a faded, fraying awning that can’t be necessary in an alley where the sun never shines and an old wooden sign creaking as it sways in the wind, suspended on a decorative metal pole over the door.

It’s a little seedy, honestly. Not the kind of place that Marinette would think to actually enter if she were not a hero and did not have Red Robin right at her side. Civilian Marinette would probably give a place like this, tucked into the gloom and murk of a dank alleyway, a wide berth.

It’s perfect. Everyone knows there is no better location for the perfect cup of coffee.

“What’s the situation?” Marinette asks. She squints down, trying to read the name on the sign. The awning is unbranded, and the pain on the sign is practically gone, but she reads it like she’s been training her whole life for this. _“Café Noir” How fitting._ Normally, Marinette might assume Chat has some part in this, but this place is obviously older than her and Chat Noir’s popularity, and it’s not really that odd of a name.

“Our friend here,” Red Robin says, indicating the café, “has some odd hours. It’s only open in the evening.”

Marinette furrows her brow. “A café open only in the evening? And they’re successful?”

“Who knows? They’re still in business now. We’ll just have to investigate further.”

“Good call.”

Red Robin grins. “Reports are overwhelmingly positive, but few in number. Our friend likes to keep to themselves.”

“Loyal customers who meet each other through word of mouth, then.” Marinette hums. “You realize what this means?”

Red Robin nods sagely. “We have a true contender. All that’s left is to infiltrate and sample the goods ourselves.”

The quest to find the perfect cup of coffee is a long, arduous, and painful task, but one of the utmost importance. Thus, it is with the appropriate level of solemnity that the two descend to street level and enter _Café Noir_.

“…his tale really isn’t that impressive.” Inside, sitting at the long counter, chatting animatedly with the lone barista, is the café’s only other customer. He’s an attractive, but otherwise unimpressive guy. Nothing stands out, exactly, save for the blazer he’s wearing that ages him in _Lycée_. “I still don’t know how to tell him that politely.”

The customer sighs, slouching over his warm cup, then looks over, grinning dazzlingly in Marinette and Red Robin’s direction only a second after the barista himself eyes them, smiling wryly. “Welcome.” The barista says, tone polite and professional, but carrying a casual, warm levity that matches the cozy atmosphere of the café. “Feel free to take a seat. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

Unlike the customer, and rather unexpectedly, the barista is dressed notably more casually. While the customer is in a school uniform, the barista dresses in plain clothes with short sleeves rolled up to expose part of his shoulders. The apron marks him as a worker, but the pretty metal armlet around his right bicep strikes her as less professional.

The customer sits upright once more in his stool, eyeing the two heroes. “You often get weirdos like this, D?”

The barista, D, chuckles good-naturedly, turning back to the customer as Marinette and Red Robin find stools close to but separated from the customer already present. “You know we get all sorts here.” Red Robin raises a brow. D meets his gaze. “Daithi” He says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Marinette says. “And you, Monsieur…” She eyes the customer – the coffee is one thing, but clientele helps make the shop what it is. They’re as much of the environment, the atmosphere, as the brickwork, well-tended wooden surfaces, and old stained-glass lightshades.

Granted, being who they are, most of their coffee will be to go, but it all plays a part when searching for that ever-elusive perfect cup.

The customer snickers and bows his head in greeting. “Name’s Sitri. Good to meet the famous heroes. I thought I’d have to get akumatized for the honor.”

“Nah.” Red Robin waves him off. “You just need good taste in coffee. Speaking of. Daithi, you said? We’re on a very important quest. We need the best coffee in Paris, so we’re trying every place that looks promising. How does yours measure up?”

Daithi chuckles softly. “Well, I’m fond of it. If you’re tasting, you’re going to want a house blend, black, I assume?”

Oh? Interesting. “That’s right.” Marinette purrs. “I’m surprised. Most places try to impress us with their fanciest stuff.”

Daithi just smiles knowingly. “You both clearly know your coffee. You can see behind me that we have all sorts of beans and blends, but if you’re on a tasting trip, you’re looking for the quality of the brewer. That’s not something you can hide behind fancy beans. It’s better just to give you a baseline.”

“A barista who respects our intelligence.” Red Robin muses. “Ladybug, I’m already liking this place.”

Marinette giggles, sharing a grin with her co-conspirator. “I can’t disagree. But it’s ultimately going to come down to the coffee.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Sitri scoffs. “I haven’t tried every place in Paris, so I can’t say it’s the absolute best, but I can say for certain that it’s up there among the finest. Daithi can make anything if you tell him the ingredients.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asks. She smiles, observing Sitri critically. He (and Daithi, for that matter) doesn’t appear too much older than Marinette herself. He’s definitely still a student, as shown by his school blazer. Not the kind of clientele she expects to be out this late, much less drinking coffee.

Except that isn’t coffee in his hands, is it? A glance to his drink and a gentle inhale through her nose tells her that it definitely isn’t. “Are you a regular?” She asks. “What’re you having?”

Sitri chuckles. “You could call me that, yeah. This is one of just a few places where I can just… chill, you know? Nowhere else has the same vibe. Nor the company.” He grins, winking Daithi’s way, and laughs like he expects it when Daithi rolls his eyes. “And this…” Sitri holds up his drink to take a purposeful sip. “Let’s call it a digestion medication. It helps, and D is the only one who can make it right. I do drink coffee, though, so don’t think I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Medication?” Red Robin leans over, curious. “And you get it here?”

“Not an actual medication.” Sitri says, smiling. “Just a special brew that D made for me. It’s uh… personalized, you could say, so it’s not something just on the menu.”

“Huh. So, you even make custom drinks here.”

Sitri grins. “As I said, D can make anything if you tell him the ingredients.”

Daithi comes over, clearing his throat politely, to set down a cup in front of both Marinette and Red Robin. “Your drinks are ready.” He says.

“Yes…” Red Robin moans, reaching immediately for it. Marinette nudges him, and he makes the short detour to his utility belt to fish out some cash first, despite Daithi not making any indication of impatience or demanding payment just yet.

Marinette, who is raised with manners, and also in the service industry, waits until Daithi has the cash in hand before she reaches for her own drink. Honestly, just because this place is obviously casual is no excuse to forget something so important as _paying_.

Red Robin sips his coffee. Marinette sips hers. Ah… yes, the warmth, the flavors… that’s how one sets their heart at peace. Red Robin is moaning into his cup like it’s inappropriate, but Marinette, who has _poise_ – thank you very much – simply sips contentedly and examines the flavors on her tongue.

_This…_ she thinks, _this might be it._

Red Robin replaces the cup on the saucer carefully, and Marinette follows suit. As Sitri eyes them both eagerly, clearly expecting their verdict, Red Robin leans over the counter to get as close as he possibly can to Daithi, squinting sharply at their barista. For his part, Daithi just smiles enigmatically, unflinchingly.

“Are you magic?” Red Robin asks softly, with a lot of feeling.

Daithi’s enigmatic grin doesn’t change at all, but Sitri openly snickers. “Technically, no.” Daithi says.

“Yes.” Sitri says, giggling at Daithi’s answer. “At least, there’s not a single regular who doesn’t think he’s some kind of wizard.”

At that, Daithi actually pouts cutely. “Every single one of our regulars knows for a fact that we’re not a wizard.”

“Do I?” Sitri’s grin only widens. “I think you need to convince me.”

Daithi sends him a glare, but quickly composes himself to address the heroes. “So? What do you think?”

Red Robin meets Marinette’s gaze. She mentally shuffles through her rankings for all the places they’ve hit so far and slots this drink in, then nods when it’s clear she and Red Robin have both come to a decision. “We’re still looking for any places we find.” Marinette says. “But so far? This is number one.”

Daithi chuckles softly. “We’re glad you like it.”

Red Robin narrows his eyes, whispering, “You’re definitely a wizard.”

Daithi sighs, shaking his head, but refrains from commenting. Sitri, however does not restrain himself. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. They say that if you have a problem, all you have to do is come here and talk with someone and it’ll be fixed in no time. I’ve seen it happen! One moment there’s this bully, a few days later, they’re apologizing out of nowhere!”

Oh? That is… intriguing. Marinette shares a critical look with Red Robin, and she can see his mind working, too.

“Now, now, M. Sitri.” Daithi says smoothly. “We didn’t think we’d have to ask you not to spread baseless rumors about us.”

Sitri just snickers and leans closer to Marinette, blocking Daithi’s view of his mouth as if to whisper, and says at exactly the same volume as before, “He’s not allowed to say what magic he has, but we all know he does something. He’s _definitely_ a wizard.”

Marinette giggles, because Sitri’s teasing grin makes it obvious that he’s joking, but something naggles at her nonetheless because she gets the odd feeling that he’s _only_ joking about the wizard part. It seems like some sort of in-joke between the two.

“What an interesting power.” Marinette says, keeping her voice light. “Maybe I should complain about Hawk Moth a bit.”

Sitri snickers. “Feel free!”

“If such a power exists,” Daithi says, “Hawk Moth would long be dealt with, don’t you think? But M. Sitri is right, Mlle. Ladybug. We know you’re just joking, but we’re more than happy to listen if you ever do want to rant.”

“The wizard’s got a point.” Red Robin says. “We can’t be the first people to come in here complaining about Hawk Moth.”

“You’d be surprised.” Sitri shrugs, pointedly sipping his drink. “People have all sorts of problems. That one isn’t exactly a coffee shop go-to.”

“Says the one who has personally complained about Hawk Moth here.” Daithi says pointedly, teasingly.

Sitri gasps dramatically. “D! You really have to call me out like this?”

“When you spread rumors about us, yes.”

“D! Come on, I don-” He cuts himself off suddenly at the sound of a gentle chime, eyes darting to Daithi’s pocket, and then the door behind the counter leading into the back of the shop.

“Pardon me.” Daithi says politely, reaching into his pocket to check his phone. After a moment, and a concerning frown, he looks up to the heroes once, more, eyes quickly darting between them and Sitri. “My apologies. I’m needed in the back. If you need another drink, ring the bell.” He indicates a bell on the counter. “Otherwise, feel free to take your time. M. Sitri can do pretty much anything but make the drinks themselves.”

“Don’t volunteer me to do your job.”

“Would you refuse?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Daithi chuckles. “He’s more reliable than he looks. Not that we expect you to need anything. Just enjoy your drinks. We don’t know how long this’ll take, so just leave the cups on the counter and take off whenever you’re ready to leave.”

“Of course.” Marinette says, and then he’s off, stealing away into the back rooms out of sight. Marinette shares an unsure look with Red Robin. _Is everything okay? That was kind of sudden. I didn’t think there was anyone else here, so who could have called him back there?_ _And why message his phone rather than simply come find him?_

_I’m probably overthinking it._ She shakes her head.

“Is everything okay?” Red Robin asks, looking past her to Sitri.

Sitri’s brow is furrowed as he looks at the door, but he still shakes his head in response. “Well… it’s nothing he can’t handle.” Marinette is sure that Sitri knows more than he lets on, because he doesn’t quite manage to completely wipe the concern off his face when he grins in that carefree way of his. “Definitely not worth ruining such a good cup of coffee over. You guys might be heroes, but you’re still customers. Trust the staff to do his job.”

…That’s a fair point. Sure, something in Marinette’s gut tells her this is a little more suspicious than simply needing something done in the back, but it’s true that whatever the problem is, it’s something that is probably his literal job to do.

Besides, no one who makes coffee this good can be a bad person. It’s just not possible. Even if he is doing something shady, Marinette doubts it’s anything bad.

And yet, Red Robin has quite the frown on his face. They meet eyes and he quirks his lips in a way that makes Marinette think he sees something that she doesn’t. He is more paranoid than her, but she doesn’t think this is simply a case of him lingering on something for too long.

“Well,” Marinette says, finishing off the last of her drink, “I hope it’s not too much trouble, whatever it is. It’s getting late, anyway, right, Red Robin?”

He eyes her, then his cup, which is thankfully drained (there’s no way they’re leaving without finishing the coffee) and nods. “That’s right. We should get going.”

“You sure?” Sitri asks. “Don’t feel like you have to leave because D isn’t here – trust me, it’s fine if you want to stick around for a bit.”

“No,” Marinette shakes her head, “we’ve stayed too long as it is. We have to city to protect, after all. It was nice to meet you, Monsieur Sitri.”

Sitri frowns for a moment, but grins when he accepts her reasoning. “Sure. You too, Ladybug, Red Robin. Be careful on your way back.”

Marinette giggles. “We should be telling you that. Anyway. Maybe we’ll see you again. This place is definitely worth another visit.”

“I look forward to it.”

Marinette and Red Robin abscond and grapple up to the rooftops. They stop not far away. It’s true that they really should be getting home and getting sleep, but they’re of one mind when they stop and frown at each other. “What did you notice?” Marinette asks.

Red Robin frowns, brow furrowed, and casts his gaze over the city as if to remind himself of where he is. “So, uh… I’m not from Paris. Is there a reason that a normal coffee shop barista would have a gun?”

“He has a _what_?!” Marinette chokes out. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not unbelievable in Gotham, but… it struck me as odd, here. I saw it when he turned to leave, tucked in his waistband. Hidden, but I’ve seen so many concealed weapons at this point that it’s not that hard to spot.”

That is… not what Marinette expects. “I thought you were just concerned about them being suspicious when he had to leave.” She says.

“That too.”

“I had no idea… Maybe it’s just for self-defense? Paris is a little dangerous with all the akuma. It’s true that some people take advantage of the chaos to commit conventional crime, and it looks like it’s just him there. In a hole-in-the-wall late at night.”

Red Robin hums. “I was thinking the same thing. I don’t want to believe the coffee wizard is up to something shady, but… Sitri was definitely concerned, wasn’t he? He seemed to have an idea of what was going on, so he wouldn’t be concerned if there was just some normal issue in the back.”

“That’s true.” Marinette grimaces. “I did get the feeling that there was more going on than they were willing to show us.”

Red Robin taps his chin for a moment. “I’m going to do some digging. I want to know who the coffee wizard is, and more about that shop. I’ll look into the rumor Sitri mentioned, too. He was… probably joking? But I couldn’t tell _how much_ of it was a joke, so if I’m already looking into it, I may as well check that out, too.”

“Good idea.” Marinette hums. Objectively, this isn’t that important, but personally, this is the most important mission they have. This is the best coffee they’ve found so far – maybe the best coffee they’ll ever find. They _cannot_ let some shady business ruin this for them. And she knows – and she knows that Red Robin knows – that they can’t spare resources from the search for Hawk Moth, but if they do some research into a mystery in their own time, then there’s nothing wrong with that.

Absolutely nothing wrong with that.

With the taste of coffee lingering in her mouth, Marinette smiles, content that they already have a plan.

* * *

It takes some time before they can get around to truly following through in their investigation, and in the meantime, they visit Café Noir again more than once at the tail end of their patrols. They talk about inviting Chat on one of his patrol nights but decide against it at least until they’re satisfied that it isn’t a front for some criminal empire or something.

But Chat is not them, and personally? Even if it is a criminal organization, the coffee is just too good to pass up. Their aim is Hawk Moth, anyway, so until they get together and investigate in earnest, she knows nothing.

But tonight just so happens to be that very night. It’s just Marinette and Red Robin out tonight, and he messages her earlier about finishing his digging, so she’ll be getting his report.

They make their way around Paris by rooftop, conversing in hushed whispers through their communicators so that they will not be overheard. “So, Café Noir.” Red Robin says. “Daithi McNamara, the coffee wizard, is only just out of _lycée_ , but he actually started working there while he was still in school. Now, he’s the manager there, though from what I can tell there are no other baristas. It’s small, like you’d expect. Just him and like, two part-timers. It’s owned by Okumura Foods, a large food company based in Tokyo. The CEO, Haru Okumura, is well known to be fond of small, sustainable, hole-in-the-wall coffee shops, and owns a couple here and there in various locations, including this one in Paris.”

Marinette hums. It’s a bit hypocritical to think this, considering she’s Ladybug, but it’s hard to believe that someone so young is running the place all on his own. But she knows a _lot_ of exceptional teenagers. The important part is that there’s nothing there that points to shady business. “That’s doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Yeah. On all accounts, it looks to be some rich CEO’s pet passion project and nothing more.”

“Good, then.” Marinette sighs with relief. “I was worried. But what about the gun? And the rumors?”

“That, I still don’t know.” Red Robin admits. “I did look into the rumors, but as expected with a place as small as that, it’s all just word-of-mouth. There’s little to nothing online, so it’s hard to say. Here’s what I did find, though. I thought it was interesting. Remember Sitri’s example? A bully who suddenly apologizes for seemingly no reason? As if they’ve realized that they’ve done something wrong and now feel guilty about it?”

“Yeah? Curious that their mind can change so quickly.” Marinette sighs. “I can think of one or two people who need it.”

Red Robin chuckles. “I’m sure. I can think of a few myself. But get this; it’s a little tangential and definitely circumstantial, and even in the original case there are still a lot of questions left unanswered, but there are some interesting things I found.

“So, in Tokyo, a while ago, there was this group of vigilantes calling themselves the Phantom Thieves. Apparently, they did basically what Sitri described. They’d hear about bad people – bullies, abusers, stalkers, their high-profile targets even went as high as the newly-elected Prime Minister of the time.” Marinette’s eyes go wide. Something that big, that it affects Japan’s whole government? She’s torn between worry that she’s diving into something much bigger than her (again) and cynical irritation because _of course_ there are so many questions left unanswered if it was this high-profile.

Red Robin just continues. “After those people got a calling card from the thieves, they just changed all of a sudden, becoming remorseful. It’s like the Phantom Thieves made them grow a conscience.”

“Huh.” Marinette says. “That does sound like what Sitri was talking about.”

“Right? And guess who was one their high-profile targets, right at the height of their fame?”

…Is she supposed to actually know this answer? “Uh… Haru Okumura?”

“Close! Her father, Kunikazu Okumura. Actually, it’s sort of a terrible story. At the same time, there were these ‘mental shutdown incidents’ going around. It was eventually revealed who was behind those, but at the time they framed the Phantom Thieves for their crimes by killing Okumura on live TV, just as he was confessing after the Phantom Thieves changed his heart.” Marinette winces. _Yikes._ “Haru Okumura inherited the company, fixed the abuse and corruption her father left her with, and basically made a complete turnaround. Honestly, I’m impressed she managed considering the absolute disaster she was trying to keep afloat.

“Ah, but this isn’t about her business strategy. I’m getting distracted. The point is that while it’s entirely circumstantial and there still isn’t any documentation of how, exactly, the Phantom Thieves coerced their targets into confessing, the fact that something so similar is rumored to be happening here with Okumura as a link is pretty interesting. Daithi is, indirectly, linked to the Phantom Thieves themselves.”

“You don’t really think that he has something to do with that, do you?”

“Oh, no.” Red Robin laughs. “No, he’s not part of the Phantom Thieves incident. I checked. He was in Texas during all that, and also in middle school, so it’s impossible. I’m just saying that it’s _not_ impossible for him to be using their methods, as far as we know.”

…Technically, Marinette supposes he’s right. It _isn’t_ impossible. Still. “And you think the barista listens to his customer’s problems and then uses that information to… coerce bad people into having a conscience?”

“To steal their hearts. That’s what the Phantom Thieves called it. And don’t take that tone with me. Yes, I know how ridiculous it sounds, but this is _fun_ , so let me have my conspiracy theory, okay?”

Marinette shakes her head, unable to keep the smile from her lips. “Sure. So, coffee wizard is definitely a Phantom Thief. Do we do anything with that?”

“Uh… no? Far as I can tell, he’s not doing anything wrong. Besides, even if I could claim the moral high ground here, I’m not outing my best coffee supplier. Maybe he really can go after Hawk Moth. He implied he couldn’t – said if he could, it’d already be done – but maybe that’s just because he’s missing something? I mean, the Phantom Thieves went after the freaking Prime Minister.”

“Maybe Hawk Moth is just too high profile.” Marinette offers. “It’s not like we have another Phantom Thieves incident happening here. If he were going after big people, we’d know _something_ is happening. Even the shop itself is pretty reserved, not a place that’s looking for broad popularity.”

Red Robin hums. “You’ve got a point there, Ladybug. It could be that he just doesn’t want Paris on his case like Tokyo was on the Phantom Thieves’.”

“We are assuming, of course, that he’s even capable of… what did you say? Stealing Hawk Moth’s heart?”

He laughs. “Yeah. Alright, that’s enough conspiracy for tonight. You almost done with your route?”

“Just about.”

“Cool. Want to get some coffee?”

“Café Noir? Or did you find somewhere else?”

“Coffee wizard. I’m not ready to look for other baristas again, yet.”

* * *

It’s about a month after their first visit that Marinette realizes that she and Red Robin are technically, probably, regulars at Café Noir. Going every few days before or after patrol makes it sort of an inevitability, but despite the cozy, open, and friendly atmosphere of the place, despite how Daithi welcomes them like old pals even though both of them insist on wearing masks into his establishment, there’s always this… wall between them and the rest of the people that make up Café Noir.

Marinette doesn’t think anything of it at first because, for one, she’s wearing a mask. Of course, there is some separation between her and the others when she can’t divulge any hint to her identity. She’s cagey, and she doesn’t make any attempt to hide that, and Red Robin isn’t any better, and they’re lucky that Daithi and the regulars are so accepting of that and go out of their way not to use their time with celebrities to push for any more than polite conversation.

It’s almost freaky, actually, just how patiently polite the people here are, specifically regarding their secrets.

But then, that makes sense, because despite coming regularly for a month now, she and Red Robin are distinctly left out of the inside jokes that _everyone_ here seems to share. And that’s what makes her realize that these people are so respectful of their privacy not because that’s just the kind of people attracted here, though that may be a factor, but because they’re all hiding something themselves.

And honestly? That’s fine. Marinette is pretty much completely sure that whatever they’re hiding isn’t anything criminal or bad, so she respects their privacy just as they do hers.

Sometimes, though, it gets very difficult to do that. Mostly when regulars start talking in only thinly-veiled terms about something that Marinette isn’t sure she shouldn’t be trying to figure out. Nine times out of ten, it’s none of her business, so even though the conversation seems impossible for anyone not in on it to follow, and very odd from the outside, she doesn’t put much thought into it. But today, while it is still true that it’s none of her business, the conversation isn’t about people they know or just ranting or vague advice, but an honest argument about someone’s health.

Sitri’s, specifically.

Marinette is halfway through her cup, enjoying conversation with Red Robin, when Sitri stumbles through the door, bedraggled, grimacing, and looking green in the face. He collapses into a nearby stool and doesn’t even need to say anything before Daithi has a cup of his special brew. It’s the same thing Marinette sees him drink several times before (though, not every time), which he says on their very first visit is some kind of digestion aid.

Now that Marinette thinks about it, it’s been a while since she’s seen Sitri around. The first week or so of her visiting, he’s been here every day, but in the last week she hasn’t seen him at all. If he really does need that drink on occasion, it’s no wonder that he looks so much the worse for wear.

And yet, after Daithi places the cup in front of him and returns to make more – Marinette sees him sometimes make a large thermos of the stuff for Sitri, which makes sense considering the limited hours this place is open – Sitri weakly stops him. “Don’t.” He says. “I…” It’s utter defeat and exhaustion that colors his voice as he hangs his head. “I can’t afford that much.”

Daithi presses his lips together into a thin line but doesn’t stop for even a moment longer after hearing Sitri’s reasoning. He immediately gets back to work.

“D.” Sitri groans. “I’m serious. Don’t.”

“On the house.” Daithi says levelly, no different than when he deals with any other customer.

“Don’t you dare.” Sitri growls. “I’m not taking your charity.”

Finally, Daithi stops to sigh. “You need this, Sitri.” Marinette blinks, sharing a look with Red Robin. It’s the first time Marinette hears him drop the title on _anyone’s_ name. Even with Ladybug and Red Robin, who don’t even have proper names, it’s always “Mademoiselle” and “Monsieur” and the regulars are definitely no exception.

“I can manage.” Sitri says weakly. “We all do.” _We? Who is we?_

“Just because you can doesn’t mean I’ll let you struggle when there’s such an easy solution.”

“You _know_ I won’t accept that.” Sitri bites his lip, looking ashamedly at the counter. “I can’t afford it. That’s on me.”

Red Robin interjects, then, brow knit with worry. “I can pay for it.”

“No!” Sitri groans. “I’m not taking _your_ charity, either. This is _my_ problem.”

Red Robin frowns. “Consider it me just doing my duty, then. I’m here to help the people of Paris, so it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Sitri insists. He sighs and cradles the one cup that he does accept. “I’ll make do with just this.”

“This is a medical issue, isn’t it? Then there’s no need to-”

“There’s no need to get involved in something that’s none of your business.” Sitri growls, glaring harshly at Red Robin. He flinches a moment later. “…Sorry. I just… I’m not comfortable letting someone else pay for it.”

“ _No one_ needs to pay for it.” Daithi says smoothly. “Because it’s on the house.”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying _you’re_ paying for me.” Sitri pouts.

Daithi sighs. “Look, if you really can’t accept this, then… stick around until my shift is done. Once I close up, I can help you the traditional way.”

Sitri’s face turns crimson in a moment, but Marinette can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or anger, because he immediately launches into a bold denial. “No! Absolutely not!”

“Sitri…”

“I’m not going to…” Sitri grimaces, obviously deeply uncomfortable with whatever Daithi is implying. “I’m not going to _use_ you like that. That’s not an option and you know it.”

“It is, because I want to.” Daithi sighs. “But if you’re not comfortable with that, then the only other choice you have is to accept this.” He holds out the large cylinder full of Sitri’s brew.

“You’re running a business, D. I know you like to help people, but you can’t just do things like this for free.”

Daithi scoffs. “If the boss were standing where I am right now, what do you think she would do?”

Sitri opens his mouth to counter, but no sound comes out. He huffs, curls up one fist that hits the counter in frustration, and snatches the thermos from Daithi with his other hands. Quietly, he admits, “…She wouldn’t let me leave without it.” He sighs. “Damn it. I knew this would happen… fine. D, open a tab. I’m not taking it for free. I’ll pay you back soon.”

Daithi sighs wearily but concedes in marking down a note. “That’s not necessary.” He says, but it’s clear at this point that it’s a token protest.

“It is.” Sitri groans. With that small victory, and his acceptance of where he has to concede, he bends over to plant his face into the counter, breathing carefully behind his arms. “…Thanks, though.”

Daithi shakes his head. “You’re too stubborn.” He says, but he has a smile on his face and he looks down at Sitri fondly. “You do realize it’s my job to help, right? And you’re my friend, besides.”

Sitri releases a weak little groan to acknowledge him, and Daithi reaches out without thought. He stops short before his hand actually meets Sitri’s hair, and he bites his lip as he glances over to Marinette and Red Robin and quickly falls back into his role as the professional barista.

Honestly, he’s so good at it that despite how well he seems to know all the regulars, this break in that persona is the very first time Marinette finds herself wondering just how close he is to Sitri outside of work. It’s definitely the first time he openly declares one of his customers is his friend while Marinette is around to hear. It might even be the first time Marinette hears him refer to himself in singular, as himself rather than himself _and_ the café.

(It actually humanizes him a lot, that one little arrested motion, that slip of the tongue. It makes him less mystical wizard and more just someone who is trying their best. Marinette finds it both sad and comforting that even those without masks build up those kinds of personas.)

But frustration bubbles up in her alongside the concern because while she’s definitely worried that Sitri can’t afford more than a cup of coffee, it definitely doesn’t slip past her attention that _more_ vague references to things she doesn’t understand keep popping up. That always seems to happen here.

Much of it can be passed off as her just not knowing the situation as well as them, but some just outright confuses her. She can understand that Sitri doesn’t like relying on others, but what in the world is “the traditional way” of handling his condition? And for that matter, what exactly _is_ Sitri’s condition that he needs this brew for, anyway? What does Sitri mean when he refuses that he won’t “use” Daithi for it? It doesn’t sound like it’s as simple as money.

Sure, that much with Sitri is _super_ not her business, being his personal medical issues and all, and not something Marinette is going to push on, but what does Daithi mean when he says it’s his job to help him? His job is to manage and tend Café Noir, but he talks about it like his job isn’t any different from Ladybug’s. It’s decidedly _not_ his job to help people in need when he has this business to run, yet Sitri doesn’t even argue that point, despite arguing everything else.

And the boss… she’s almost never brought up, mostly because of distance, she thinks, though the few times she is Marinette realizes that the regulars all at least know of her. According to Red Robin, though, there is no one higher up in the chain here than Daithi, so his boss has to be either some executive from Okumura Foods, or, more likely considering this is one of her pet projects which she is known to handle personally, Haru Okumura herself.

Marinette still silently questions how someone barely out of _lycée_ manages to get in the position of essentially running his own business, with only the hands-off owner over him, but then, Marinette herself has her own successful fashion brand and she’s still in _lycée_ , so she doesn’t have much room to stand on there. Hell, Luka is just about the same age as Daithi, and he’s a successful musician. Maybe Daithi just had some lucky opportunities and met Okumura somehow and things went from there.

(Maybe, her gut tells her, that is part of the reason for his professionalism, why he can’t ruffle the hair on his friend’s head so long as that apron is on and this counter is between them. So long as he is “we”, the barista and the café, and not “I” the boy. He’s so young, with so much responsibility, trusted by someone so powerful, and if he goofs off, there’s a good chance that he won’t be taken seriously. Marinette is intimately familiar with the feeling and must admit that she is the same way even now, as Ladybug.)

Daithi smiles to the two heroes. “Apologies for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” Marinette reassures quickly. “Really, it’s no problem.”

“Yeah.” Red Robin agrees, looking concerned as he examines Sitri. “But are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Sitri mumbles into the counter.

Red Robin makes an expression that conveys exactly how little he believes that, but nonetheless he sighs and says, “We should probably get going, Ladybug. It’s getting late.”

“Oh! You’re right. It’s about that time, isn’t it?”

He nods. “Thanks for the drinks. We’ll be back.”

Daithi smiles their way. “Be careful on your way home.”

Yeah. Definitely. The two leave and go through the familiar motions to get back on the rooftops and over a little so that they’re sure they’re alone, and then Red Robin says, “So, I think Sitri is a vampire.”

Marinette drops her face into her hands.

“What?” Red Robin protests. “Digestion issues? Getting together after closing to help him ‘the traditional way’? And he definitely implied that there’s a whole group of people with his exact condition, which frankly, I can’t identify. I mean, I’m not a medical doctor, but I know _a lot_. Plus, it explains all the caginess. The coffee wizard is helping vampires blend into our society.” He gasps dramatically. “He might even be one himself.”

“Says the batboy.” Marinette sighs. “If anyone is a vampire, it’s Batman.”

Red Robin grabs Marinette’s shoulder, looking dazedly off into the distance. “Holy shit. Ladybug… have we ever seen Sitri during the day?”

“Café Noir is only open in the evening, dummy.”

“Because it’s for _vampires_.” He says. “We’ve cracked it!”

“I can’t believe you’re the detective that’s supposed to find Hawk Moth.”

* * *

Sitri isn’t around the next few times Marinette visits Café Noir after patrol. Marinette isn’t entirely sure what she feels about that. Strange as it is to say, he and the other regulars have become her friends, despite her own, and most likely their own, secrets.

So, she worries about him, because though he doesn’t elaborate on the specifics of his situation, she knows that he’s struggling for money and has a medical condition that he can’t reliably afford to pay for treatment for, and that’s enough to worry anybody, especially a friend.

But so long as he’s too proud to accept help and not even showing up on top of that, there isn’t anything Marinette can do for him.

If anyone asks, that concern is what she blames her, in hindsight, complete and utter lack of foresight and general uncalled for negligence.

Well, it’s not really that bad, but it is very rude. In her defense, she does originally intend on inviting Chat Noir to the café eventually. But she knows for a fact that he’s not a fan of coffee and she doesn’t really _intend_ for this place to become a regular part of her patrol, anyway. It just kind of happens.

It’s still rude, though, and Marinette covers her face in shame when Chat Noir strolls in through the door when she’s enjoying her cup after patrol one day. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.” She mutters, voice already tight.

Red Robin glances to Chat and sighs. “Oh. Yeah, we probably should have invited him sooner, shouldn’t we?”

“So, this is where you’ve been sneaking off to.” Chat scowls as he approaches them. “Enjoying your date?”

“I am _so_ sorry.” Marinette says immediately. “I completely forgot to invite you.”

“I’m not,” Red Robin says. “It’s not like we were hiding it, and we _did_ invite him on the coffee tour.”

“Red Robin!” Marinette hisses. “We completely left him out! You apologize, too.”

Chat Noir shakes his head sadly. “I’m not mad that you guys did stuff without me, but I would have liked to have known about it.”

Red Robin sighs. “Yeah, alright. Sorry, Chat. In our defense, we were going to tell you about this place as soon as we figured out if it was completely above board.”

“Above board?” Chat echoes. The anger falls from his face to morph into curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Daithi clears his throat pointedly but holds a smile on his lips. Marinette hopes he’s genuinely amused and not just pretending. “Yes. What do you mean?”

Red Robin narrows his eyes at Daithi for a moment, and then bites, “Vampires.”

Marinette, once again, covers her face with her hands.

“Vampires?” Chat repeats. “What about vampires?”

“This place definitely serves vampires. Don’t you, Daithi?”

Daithi’s smile is _definitely_ amused now. “Of course not.” He says. “Vampires don’t exist.”

“Which is exactly what someone sheltering vampires would say.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand us,” Daithi chuckles. “What we mean is that vampires as they’re known in common mythology don’t exist. Everyone knows the only undead are spirits, and even those are very rare. Now, if you’re talking about vampiric tendencies, that is, just drinking blood, without the aspect of actually being undead, that’s another matter entirely.”

“Aha!” Red Robin smacks the counter, grinning as he stands. “So, you admit it!”

“We admit nothing,” Daithi says. “Except, of course, that the common undead vampire mythos is a load of rubbish.”

Chat Noir snorts. “Oh, yeah, he definitely serves vampires.”

Daithi smiles mysteriously, so that Marinette honestly cannot tell how serious he’s being. “We serve all kinds of people here, M. Chat Noir. We have a strict non-discrimination policy, you know.”

Red Robin leans over the counter to stare at Daithi’s poker face. “Oh, I admit, you’re good.”

“What high praise from you, M. Red Robin.”

Red Robin pauses for a moment, and looks to Marinette and Chat Noir in turn, expression oddly serious considering the conversation, and Marinette picks up what he’s putting down. There are still some questions he has, and he’s finally going to outright ask. It’s a good time, with only the four of them in the café, and it’s true that those questions are what originally stop them from inviting Chat, so maybe they can get answers.

Chat Noir shifts a little as well, picking up on Red Robin’s signals just as Marinette does. Then, Red Robin says, “So, as long as we’re tackling the questions that have been keeping me up at night about this place, why do you have a gun?”

Chat Noir makes a soft sort of choking sound, but quickly pulls himself together. Daithi, however, just calmly raises an eyebrow. “We don’t.” He says.

“Your waistband begs to differ.” Red Robin gestures behind his back, indicating where Daithi’s weapon is concealed. “You do know it’s illegal to carry a firearm in France, right?”

Daithi nods. “Generally, yes. But we don’t own a gun. We’ll show you, so please don’t attack when we reach for it.” Red Robin nods, so Daithi casually reaches behind him and pulls out a… no, that’s definitely a gun.

It’s sleek silver metal with a black grip on the handle, and unmistakably a handgun. On one side of the polished barrel is an acronym. “S.E.E.S.”

Daithi places it on the counter, and Red Robin is quick to inspect it. He disassembles the thing in a matter of seconds (and Marinette tries not to think about the likely reason he’s so skilled at that) and it’s only when he takes the time to look over the mechanisms more closely that he hums. “Huh. This is… easily the most advanced ‘model’ I’ve ever seen. As far as I can tell, the only thing stopping it from using real bullets is that there’s no space for them in the cartridge.”

“It’s designed that way.” Daithi says. “It’s not meant to be able to fire live rounds, just to…” he hums thoughtfully, “evoke the feeling of it.”

“Evoke the feeling of it?” Red Robin repeats skeptically.

Daithi chuckles. “You know. Make people think that it is real. It won’t shoot bullets, but if it were pointed at you, you’d fear for your life.”

“…And why do you have this? Actually, where did you get this?”

“For self-defense, of course,” Daithi says. “I’m a teenager running a business nearly entirely alone, and Paris isn’t exactly safe these days. Mlle. Okumura insisted that we had something to scare off would-be criminals.”

Red Robin gawks in disbelief. “So, you’re saying that your boss gave you a gun.”

Daithi inclines his head. “You’re clearly not acquainted with Mlle. Okumura.”

Red Robin stares at him for a moment, then back at the gun, then back at him. “You do realize how easy it would be to mod this to shoot real bullets, right? If the police found this on you, you wouldn’t get away with saying it’s just a model.”

Daithi just shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have the skills to modify it that way. All I can do is make good drinks. Speaking of, M. Chat Noir, we apologize for not asking sooner. Would you like to order something?”

As Chat Noir blubbers, Marinette’s brain doesn’t quite function. This kind, polite, professional, barely older than her, barista just casually carries around a real gun? Or, pushing-the-boundaries-of-the-law model, anyway. Marinette is definitely not an expert on guns, but mechanically, she can’t see why the trigger mechanism wouldn’t fire a bullet if one were put in there.

She’s known about this in theory for a while now but it’s so different seeing the thing out on the counter like this. Marinette hasn’t ever been this close to a real gun before.

“Do you know how to use this?” Red Robin asks skeptically as he reassembles the gun.

“It isn’t a real gun,” Daithi says, casually making a drink for Chat. “But yes, of course. As we said, the boss is very concerned about our well-being. She ensures that we have all the necessary education to protect ourselves. That naturally extends to weapon training.”

“What odd training for a barista.”

Daithi smiles. “M. Red Robin, surely you know by now that this is no ordinary café.”

Red Robin huffs. “Yeah, I’ve figured that much out. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out just what you’re up to that makes all this necessary.”

“You haven’t?” Daithi raises his brow. “Hm. Your drink, M. Chat Noir.”

Chat mumbles a thank you and takes the drink while Red Robin passes the gun back across the counter for Daithi to retrieve. Are they giving that back, then? Marinette isn’t exactly against it, but it does feel a little… lawless not to confiscate it. Daithi is cooperative and they have no reason to believe he’s up to anything evil, so she supposes there’s no good reason to confiscate a fake gun, but it’s still definitely bordering the line of what should be acceptable.

“Are you going to tell me?”

Daithi stoically tucks the gun away, out of sight, out of mind, and shakes his head. “Our word may not stand for much given the circumstances, but all we’re at liberty to tell you at the moment is that we’re trying to help people. And no, we are not breaking any laws.”

Red Robin hums. “The gun tells me just how technically you’re interpreting the laws.”

Daithi shrugs. “We can’t deny that. Sometimes, in order to protect the weak and overlooked, we must take initiative. We believe you all are familiar with that sentiment. Nonetheless, we are law-abiding.”

“That gun doesn’t seem like ‘protecting the weak’.”

Daithi sighs. “If it were only us… perhaps. But we’re responsible for the safety and well-being of our customers, as well. Call it the American in us, but it makes us feel safer.”

“You’re American?” Chat Noir asks.

“Born and raised in Texas. I only moved to Paris during _lycée_ , and not long after found work here.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. She does _not_ understand how having a gun around makes anyone feel safe. Red Robin, though, snorts. “You know I’m from Gotham. I get it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in for having almost a gun.”

Marinette sighs. “What is America? I _don’t_ get it. But… I suppose I trust you enough to let it go for now.”

“Thank you both.” Daithi nods.

“I still want answers, though,” Red Robin says. “I’m going to figure out what you’re doing here.”

Chuckling, Daithi says, “I’m sure you will. But not yet. Now is not the time.”

Daithi probably has no idea just how tantalizing that makes this mystery. Marinette sighs, knowing that Red Robin is definitely never going to let this go.

“This is the best tea I’ve ever had,” Chat Noir says suddenly, “but I think I’m starting to understand why you guys haven’t invited me here yet.”

Marinette drops her face into her hands. Again.

* * *

After that incident, Red Robin gets a little… obsessive. He visits Café Noir almost every night for “intel” and spends so much time mumbling about it that Marinette starts to get a little worried that he’s neglecting the Hawk Moth investigation.

Aside from muttered ramblings about “execution”, “vampires”, and someone named “Kirijo”, Marinette doesn’t catch much of it. Of course, those tidbits alone are very concerning, but Marinette knows better than anyone how she can run away with things without getting the whole story first, so she forces herself to wait patiently.

The day that they get the very first of those answers that they so crave is, by pure chance, the very same day that they meet Daithi’s boss.

They enter Café Noir as always and are taken aback when they look over the counter and see a proper young woman rather than the teenage boy they’re used to in that apron. She grins at them all the same and, with a gentle, unobtrusive voice, says, “Welcome. Please, take a seat wherever you’d like.”

Marinette and Red Robin, both unsure how to handle this new development, move carefully to their usual stools. “Holy shit,” Red Robin whispers. “That’s Haru Okumura.”

_Huh?_ “The owner, Haru Okumura?” Marinette asks.

He nods vehemently.

“Let me know if I can get you anything,” Haru says.

The two heroes hesitate only a moment before they place their order. In no time at all, they have their coffee in front of them.

And it’s _good_. It’s easily as good as Daithi’s. Maybe even better? Marinette doesn’t think they’ll ever find better coffee than Daithi’s but this is _definitely_ a match for it.

Red Robin stares at Haru with stars in his eyes. “You’re a coffee empress…” He says softly.

“So, um,” Marinette says, mostly to cover up Red Robin’s dysfunctional brain, “this is really, really good, but where’s Daithi? It’s weird not seeing him behind the counter.”

Haru giggles. “Thank you. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had the chance to do this part of the job, I was worried I’d gotten rusty. But don’t worry. Daithi is just out running some errands. He’s such a kind young man. He knows how much I enjoy doing this, so he insisted on going out himself and letting me handle the shop for the night.”

That sounds like him. Sort of. Marinette still can’t quite get her head around the image of Daithi not on the job, or someone else standing where he usually does, but the sentiment is very much something Daithi would do. Except that it probably takes someone _very_ special for him to allow them to make the drinks.

“Oh!” Haru says. “Pardon my manners. My name is Haru Okumura. It’s a pleasure to meet some of the famous heroes here.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Marinette chirps. “Can I ask, what are you doing in Paris? I was under the impression that your company is based in Japan.”

Haru nods. “Yes, Okumura Foods is headquartered in Tokyo. But I try to make time to visit my locations, especially ones as special as this. I just couldn’t be prouder of the work Daithi is doing here, so I’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. Unfortunately, my schedule is quite busy. It’s been a long time since I was last here.”

“A woman in your position, I imagine you don’t have much free time at all.”

“Yes, it’s a very demanding job.” Haru giggles. “But I enjoy the work. Especially when I get the change to manage the counter and speak with customers like this. It really feels like I can make a difference.”

“And you are,” Red Robin says. “Your reform of Okumura Foods is legendary.”

“Why, thank you,” Haru says. “But it wasn’t just me. I had experienced executives to guide me, and I owe a lot of that success to my friends.”

“I’m sure. You weren’t any older than Daithi is now when you inherited the company, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right. You’re well informed, M. Red Robin.”

“So, how exactly did you meet Daithi? Why give the responsibility of a whole café on a teenager?”

Haru smiles sweetly, but there’s an edge in her eyes that makes Marinette think that she’s well aware that Red Robin is digging. “It was many years ago now. We met when he came to my rescue in a certain incident. I’m afraid I can’t go into detail, but I decided to give him this location to help him fulfil his dream.”

“His dream?” Red Robin echoes. Now that Marinette thinks about it, Daithi doesn’t strike her as particularly ambitious. He fits into this café so perfectly that she just can’t imagine him even wanting anything else. Maybe that’s why Haru decides to put him here.

“I’m sure you’ll hear all about it eventually,” Haru says. “But he needed space, and a place to work in, so I offered to give him one. He’s a very kind and earnest young man, and possibly one of the most responsible people I know, even compared to adults, so I honestly didn’t think twice about trusting him with it. It was his decision to manage it on his own, though I did help as much as I could.”

“It sounds like you’re very fond of him.”

“I am. He has my full support, and the full weight of both Okumura Foods and the Kirijo Group supporting him. If you’ve been visiting here as long as he says you have been, I’m sure you understand why.”

Red Robin whistles. “He’s definitely a character, I’ll give him that. A little too shady for my tastes, but I suppose I’m not one to talk.”

Haru giggles. “Yes, I’m sure the secrets must be driving you crazy. He’s not trying to keep anything from you, though. He’s just not sure if he can trust you.”

“ _He’s_ not sure if he can trust _me_?”

Before Marinette can process that any further, they’re all interrupted by a loud crash from the back of the café, a muffled bang suspiciously close to a gunshot immediately followed by the distant sound of breaking glass, and then _more_ crashing, signs of a struggle. Red Robin is on his feet even faster than Marinette is. “What was that?” He asks.

“Oh my,” Haru says. “Daithi must have gotten back. I’ll go check on him. Please excuse me.”

“Wha- seriously?” Haru rushes off, leaving Red Robin gaping. “Like hell are we staying back. Come on, Ladybug, we need to help.”

“Like you read my mind,” Marinette says, right on his heels following him through the door to the back.

The back of Café Noir isn’t any different than Marinette expects. Behind closed doors, aesthetics are spartan and minimal for ease of cleaning. When they burst into the room that Haru goes into, it’s easily identifiable as an industrial, food-service standard kitchen.

It looks like a tornado sweeps through here. Anything not nailed down is strewn about the place, more than a few pots and pans are dented or completely destroyed, curious scratch marks cover _everything_ , and Marinette can tell by the sheer quantity alone, as well as the obvious attempts to buff them out, that most of them aren’t fresh. (Though, the ones that _are_ fresh…)

She gulps as she moves around the island to finally see exactly what causes this mess, and once she does, she immediately readies her yo-yo.

Except… there’s no need for that. Daithi smiles up at her, weak and exhausted and disheveled, but with no visible injuries. He’s singing a gentle tune in English and carefully stroking the… beast in his lap.

Her first thought when she sees it is, _“Akuma”_ but she slowly relaxes when she realizes it’s just laying there, head in Daithi’s lap, nuzzling into him. A hulking mound of dark grey fur, only vaguely humanoid, with ferocious-looking claws resting perfectly still splayed out on the damaged tile. It yawns, massive teeth on full display, jaw big enough to fit Daithi’s torso into with some effort, and plops its head right back down, utterly at peace.

Daithi himself doesn’t pause his ministrations for a moment, constantly petting the… werewolf? He coos at it between lines of his gentle song, whispering to it in English as calming as he can be.

Softly, with a lot of feeling, Red Robin says, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my!” Haru gasps. “Are you okay? You poor dear.” She drops to her knees and, without skipping a beat, begins to pet the beast as well, eliciting a pleased little whine from it. “You must be exhausted. Are you injured anywhere? We need to take care of that right away if you are.”

“Check his foot.” Daithi says weakly. “He was jumping around so much, I had to stop his movement. I think I made him twist his ankle.”

“Of course.” Haru immediately turns her attention to the beasts paws, unflinchingly picking up the paw as big as her head to examine it closer. She’s careful, though, monitoring how it reacts to touch, and quickly finds the injury. She clicks her tongue gently, like a mother scolding a child. “That’s going to be painful. I’ll get you some ice.”

Daithi sighs, obviously spent. “Thank you, Boss.”

“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” She says with a smile, already assembling a bag of ice. “I’ll get started on some food. You both need it. You just sit there and rest.”

Daithi laughs. “Yeah… rest.” He shakes his head, smiling fondly at the beast in his lap, utterly unfazed by the enormous eye peeking up at him. “You really gave me a hard time, didn’t you?” He says, practically cooing like he’s talking to an ordinary dog and not some kind of monster. “Aw, but it’s okay. That’s what I’m here for. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

The beast lifts its head just enough to lick Daithi’s face, which only makes him laugh. “What am I going to do with you?” Another lick. Haru comes back with the ice bag, then promptly retreats again to make use of the kitchen. It doesn’t seem to bother her at all that the place is in utter disrepair as she cheerfully goes about preparing a meal. Daithi ruffles the fur on the beast’s head. “Yes, you’re adorable. Just be more careful, alright? You gave me a huge scare tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Red Robin repeats. Marinette rather agrees with the sentiment.

Daithi glances up, sighs, and says, “I guess I have a lot to explain, huh? Could one of you please hold this on his ankle? I’m a little pinned at the moment.”

Marinette isn’t sure about approaching as boldly as Haru does, but nonetheless she takes the ice from him, carefully positions herself near the beast’s paws, and gently holds the ice to its ankle. It whines but holds still for her.

“What the fuck?” Red Robin says again.

“This is Franz. He’s a werewolf,” Daithi says, in the same tone someone might introduce Rex the Chihuahua, as he scratches the beast behind the ears. “He forgot to prepare and threw a tantrum when he shifted. Didn’t you?” Franz whines loudly in what Marinette can only describe as a pout.

“A werewolf.” Red Robin says blankly. “A _werewolf_.”

“Franz?” Marinette gasps. She _knows_ Franz. Not well, admittedly. He’s one of the less regular regulars here, but she meets him a while ago and has absolutely no idea he’s… a werewolf.

Franz looks completely pooped, ready to just fall asleep, and though Daithi doesn’t look that much better, he answers, “That’s right. On both counts. You’ve met before.”

“…And this isn’t an akuma?”

Daithi laughs. “Not at all. This is perfectly ordinary, believe it or not.”

“Akuma are unfortunately pretty ordinary nowadays, too,” Marinette mutters. Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to compartmentalize right now. Werewolves. Alright. Sure. Why not? Ever since Marinette finds those earrings in her room, nothing makes any sense, so why should the best coffee shop she knows be any different?

Then Red Robin says, “So, you _do_ serve vampires!”

“I told you before, vampires don’t exist,” Daithi says calmly. His smile gives him away, though. “No undead do, except spirits, and those are so rare I only know one, myself.”

“Spirits,” Red Robin says. “Ghosts?”

“Yes, ghosts. Technically speaking, though, the body dies, but the spirit doesn’t. They don’t die and come back to life. So even then classifying them as undead is a little… iffy. By and large, undead don’t exist. When you die, you die.”

“Huh. Good to know. And, uh… werewolves?”

Daithi chuckles. “First thing to know about weres is that they’re still themselves, even when they look like this.” He fondles Franz’ ear affectionately. “Which means that if you know the animal you’re talking to is a were, you should just address them like anyone else. I can baby-talk Franz a little because we’re buddies, but you shouldn’t do that just because they look like dogs or cats or whatever they are.”

Marinette isn’t sure she can bring herself to baby-talk to a beast like Franz, frankly. As much as Daithi seems to dote on him like a puppy, he’s just… objectively not even close.

“So, there are more than just wolves?” And it sounds like Red Robin is getting used to the idea. His tone relaxes a lot as he starts digging.

“Sure,” Daithi says. “Therianthropy comes in many forms. The vast majority will be mammals – in fact, the vast majority are mammals in the order Carnivora. That’s not a strict rule, but most people even within were communities won’t ever see that broken. Wolves are common, as are other dogs and various cats. Bears and mustelids are less common, the latter more than the former. There’s also a broad spectrum of how complete the transformation is. There are more anthropomorphic weres like Franz here, and they even get more human than this, and there are the more zoomorphic weres that can be indistinguishable from the animal.”

“…Please tell me you’re joking.”

Daithi giggles. “Of course not. The were community is incredibly diverse. Honestly, no short summary I can give you will encompass it all.”

Red Robin sighs heavily. “So, what happened here?”

Daithi’s smile drops. “Any sort of transfiguration, induced or spontaneous, requires a lot of energy to pull off. In every case, it’ll use the energy of the person changing form. With spellcasters, it’s as simple as not using those spells unless they’ve eaten and rested, but with weres… it’s a little more complicated. If they’re in a tough situation – they don’t have money to eat or they can’t get enough sleep for whatever reason, even if they just forget a meal, their transformation can be dangerous. If it uses up more energy than they have, they’ll die.”

Marinette sucks in a hissing breath. That… does make sense.

“With enough training, weres can learn to control their transformations. It’s newly turned weres, young ones, and those in bad situations that are most at-risk. This, Franz going a bit wild, is a result of improper preparation and him thinking with his stomach when he suddenly found himself shifted and ravenous from the energy used to transform him.”

“That sounds dangerous.” Red Robin says. Franz whines weakly.

“It is.” Daithi agrees. “Which is why other weres, and people like me, are here to help them. He’s tuckered out now, but once he regains his strength and has a full belly, he will be able to shift back and go back to his life. This is just part of what I meant when I told you two that my job here is to help people.”

“Café Noir is a resource for weres, and I assume other supernatural creatures, to live their lives as normally as possible.” Red Robin concludes. “I can’t believe I was actually _right_. Vampires notwithstanding, of course.”

Daithi laughs again. “Yes, we all thought it was very funny how close you got to guessing.”

“Huh. This explains so much,” Red Robin mutters. “Why the place is so small and hidden away, why you’re the only one here… Ms. Okumura mentioned she gave you this place to help you fulfil your dream.”

Daithi nods slowly. “I was given the responsibility of looking after the magical community. It’s all underground, so it’s difficult for people to find resources to educate themselves. I’m… a historian, and a teacher of sorts. I run this place so that people have a place to come to where they can answer questions and help each other.”

“You were given the responsibility?” Marinette asks. “By whom?”

“My mentors,” Daithi says. “Don’t worry, Ladybug. It wasn’t thrust upon me. I was given the choice, and I chose this life. I think I’m suited to it.”

As much as Marinette wants to argue that he’s taking on too much for someone so young, she knows exactly how hypocritical that is. Plus, he _does_ seem suited to it. More than a few times she remarks how difficult it is to imagine him being anywhere else, doing anything else, but running this coffee shop.

Of course, she doesn’t know about werewolves and ghosts at the time, but strangely enough it almost makes sense.

“So, if Sitri isn’t a vampire,” Red Robin asks, “what is he?”

Daithi shakes his head. “If you want to know about Sitri, you need to ask him yourself.”

Fair enough. Haru comes back with plates piled high with… is that curry? It’s objectively not even noteworthy, considering the night she’s having, but for some reason seeing Haru Okumura holding plates of curry of all things is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Whatever Marinette expects Haru to make, she can say for damn sure that it isn’t _curry_. And yet, she can’t even bring herself to be surprised, because why should she?

Marinette thinks she needs to go take a nap. It’s late, anyway.

* * *

“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Red Robin says, obviously lacking sleep. “Mikage-cho, Japan, 1996.”

Marinette groans. “Red Robin, I swear to god.”

“Kei Nanjo, current head of the Nanjo Group, of which the Kirijo Group is a branch, is involved in supernatural activity.”

“You really need to learn to just take things as they come, Red. You can’t obsess over every detail when things get this magical.”

“Iwatodai, Japan, 1999. There’s an unexplained explosion at a Kirijo Group facility.”

“Seriously, does any of this even have anything to do with anything?”

“I’m getting there!” Red Robin protests. He huffs childishly. “Fine. Admittedly, a lot of this is speculation, since literally anything on Kirijo and her associates is locked up tighter than Fort Knox, but basically what I’m saying is that all this supernatural stuff has been going on for _forever_.”

Marinette blinks. “Uh, duh. Did you think werewolves just appeared in the last month?”

“No, you don’t understand.” Red Robin grabs her shoulders. “The government knows! The corporations know! The elite are hiding the truth!”

“Aren’t you like… filthy rich?”

“That’s not the point, Ladybug! I’m talking government shadow organizations. I’m talking a conspiracy to end all conspiracies! How far does this go?!”

“…Red Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Since I saw a werewolf with my own two eyes.”

Marinette releases a heavy sigh. “Go to sleep, Red Robin. I can take patrol alone tonight.”

“Ladybug, a nineteen-year-old barista has the full backing of Okumura Foods, the Kirijo Group, and likely the Nanjo Group as well. Do you have _any_ idea how powerful this guy is? With that kind of resources, he could make _us_ disappear. Mitsuru Kirijo alone could challenge Bruce Wayne in a battle of influence. Add Okumura and Nanjo to the mix, and even _he_ would be scared.”

“And all this guy is doing with all of that at his disposal is running himself ragged tending to a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop almost entirely on his own,” Marinette says flatly. “I don’t think he’s going to make us disappear.”

“No, of course he wouldn’t,” Red Robin says quickly. “I, for one, trust our coffee wizard. But he _could_.”

“And that… means something?”

“It means _everything_.”

“…Okay, you’re clearly up past your bedtime.”

Red Robin goes quiet. “…You’re right. I need coffee.”

Marinette sighs. “I want to argue, but… honestly, I could use some coffee myself.”

If Red Robin is a little too enthusiastic to finish their patrol from that moment onwards, Marinette thinks she can pretend not to notice. Just for tonight.

They make it to Café Noir just like they do any other night, and when they walk inside, they scope the place as is also customary. It’s not crowded – Marinette doesn’t think she’s ever seen more than three other customers here at any given time. Haru Okumura is behind the counter again, but unlike the other time, Daithi is also out with his apron on, and seems to be the one actually tending the counter as Haru taps a pencil on a clipboard. The only other person in the café is Sitri, chatting animatedly with Daithi.

“Welcome,” Daithi says, turning to face the two of them as they enter. “Let us know if you’d like to order something.”

Marinette grins at him, then turns her attention to Sitri. “Sitri! You’re back!” It’s been far too long since the last, concerning, time they saw him.

Sitri grins easily, waving his welcome to her as she takes the stool next to his. “Good to see you, Ladybug. Red Robin. Yeah… I’m back. Sorry for worrying you.”

“Everything alright?” Red Robin asks. “You got everything figured out now?”

Sitri rubs his neck. “Maybe not everything, but I’m making do for now. Managed to make myself some breathing room, at least.”

“That’s good. Change of subject; I hope you don’t mind me asking, but it’s been driving me crazy.” Red Robin eagerly leans over the counter, across Marinette, to get closer to Sitri. “What are you? The coffee wizard _insists_ that vampires don’t exist so I can’t figure you out.”

Sitri cracks into a grin, giggling to himself. “Right, D told me you finally got introduced to the community. I kind of regret not being able to see that.” He shakes his head. “Oh, well. To answer your question, I’m a demon. An incubus, specifically.”

“An incubus?” Red Robin echoes. “Wait, hold on, so, back then, when Daithi said he’d help you the traditional way…”

“Exactly what you think,” Sitri says simply. “That’s why I couldn’t possibly accept.”

Marinette can actually feel her cheeks warm. _Oh. That is not an image I needed._

Red Robin, though, just nods sagely. “And the drink?”

“Helps me sustain myself,” Sitri says. “Demons by convention are classified as such because we can actually convert spiritual energy to physical energy. Least, that’s what D keeps telling me. All I know is that I feed off other people’s lust. This special brew of D’s helps my body process normal food. Cubi normally can, to an extent, but personally, it’s kind of… uh, nauseating.”

Daithi chuckles softly and adds, “The nature of cubi, that is, both incubi and succubi, is that they feed off of others’ spirits. When someone feels a certain way, in folklore and for Sitri it’s lust, but individuals feed off of all sorts of feelings and emotions in practice, they can steal some of that person’s spirit. Or, specifically, the energy sustaining that spirit. The process is ordinarily benign, but if they focus on one person too long, they can eventually take too much and cause harm.”

“D likes to lecture,” Sitri says. “Now you know about us, you’ve opened yourself up to it.”

Red Robin makes a face. “So, someone lusts after you, and that’s basically food to you?”

“Pretty much,” Sitri says. “Though technically it doesn’t have to be directed at me.”

Daithi smiles. “Powerful cubi who feed off of common feelings can sustain themselves without ever going out of their way in their daily lives, just from all the people around them going about their days.”

“It is a _lot_ easier if it’s at me, though,” Sitri says. “But then, I’m not some super powerful cubi or anything. I’m just an ordinary guy.”

“Huh.” Red Robin sits back. “You find a lot of people directing those feelings at you?”

Sitri snickers. “You calling me ugly?” Without waiting for an answer, he waves off the mock offense. “If I want people to want me, I can make them.”

“You can?” Marinette blurts out. “Just _make_ them?”

Sitri shares an amused look with Daithi. “Well, technically no, but my powers basically add up to it. I can’t change what people are into or anything, but I am a shapeshifter, and can read what you’re into.”

“Technically,” Daithi adds, “a form of mind-reading. Very limited, though.”

Sitri nods. “And I can make you horny. Assuming you have a libido at all, anyway. Add those three and I can basically make anyone want me.”

“You’re joking.” Red Robin gapes. “You can’t be that powerful.”

Sitri quirks his lips, eyes Red Robin, then ruffles his own hair. Right in front of Marinette’s eyes the thick brown hair on his head turns pitch black. “Black, huh?” Sitri hums. “You know, you have a very specific image of what you’re into. What’s their name?”

Marinette watches, torn between terror and humor, as Red Robin turns redder than his suit.

Sitri snickers. “You don’t have to answer that. And I’m sure you understand that I won’t be demonstrating that third power of mine.”

“…This proves nothing.”

“I can change my eyes, too.” Sitri teases him. “It’s a very pretty color. I might like using that for a while.”

Red Robin squeaks. “That won’t be necessary!”

Sitri chuckles, and with another ruffle of his hair, it turns back to the shade of brown it started as. “Keep thinking like that, Red Robin, and I might even be able to pull off a full transfiguration.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Haha! Don’t worry, I won’t out your crush.” With a wink, he says, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Marinette stays as quiet as possible, despite this conversation literally taking place over her, partially (she must admit) in the hopes that Sitri will just ignore her and not call out even what vague details he shares of Red Robin’s love life.

It’s actually really freaky that he can casually learn all that. Marinette recognizes and appreciates that he doesn’t give anything away but hair color, which is so vague it doesn’t narrow down options nearly at all (as far as Marinette knows, Red Robin’s crush could be any gender, too, since Sitri is _also_ careful to use neutral pronouns, and she isn’t putting changing his physical sex past his shapeshifting powers), but she’s also very glad it’s Red Robin that he’s targeting with this regardless.

“Hold on,” Red Robin says suddenly. “Were you… from me? Just now?”

Sitri giggles. “You don’t even feel it, right? Don’t worry, I didn’t take much. Besides, you’re exhausted – when’s the last time you slept? – I wouldn’t dare take much from you right now. It’s not very costly just to change my hair color, anyway. Now, if I wanted to actually change the shape of my body, that would take a lot more energy.”

“Demons are unique,” Daithi says, “in that they can convert spiritual energy into physical. Transfigurations take physical energy, because they change something on the physical plane. Demons like cubi, who feed off of the spiritual energy of others, can take others’ energy and convert it to fuel their transfigurations. Most other shapeshifters, like weres or changelings, don’t have that luxury. It makes demon shapeshifting among the safest forms of transfiguration, since it can be fueled by multiple individuals, something no other transfigurations can be.”

“That doesn’t make it easy,” Sitri says. “Transfiguration is taxing even for me. I can do small things like that no problem, though.”

Red Robin is quiet for a while. “Holy shit, demons are real.”

Sitri snorts. “Yeah, dude. But not how mythology paints us. We aren’t evil. Not anymore than you humans, anyway.”

“…We should probably stop calling Robin a demon,” he mutters. Louder, he says, “Wizard. Coffee, please.”

Daithi quirks his lips as he begins preparing a cup. “Anything for the Mademoiselle?”

Marinette, reminded that they haven’t ordered anything, eagerly requests her own coffee.

Daithi chuckles. “We believe we’ve mentioned before, but we are no wizard.”

“Bullshit.” Red Robin says. “No way you’re not magical. If you’re not a wizard, you’re something.”

“We are as human as Mlle. Ladybug here,” Daithi says smoothly.

Red Robin narrows his eyes. “She’s a magical girl.”

“Red Robin!” She protests. “I’m as human as you are, and you know it. It’s the Miraculous that gives me powers, not me.”

“Nah, he’s telling the truth,” Sitri says. “His particular brand of magic is another thing entirely, just like the Miraculous isn’t the same as my magic. Honestly, I still don’t get his madness.”

Haru, who until now is focused on her clipboard and the papers there, looks up attentively, eyeing the conversation. Marinette doesn’t know what to think about that.

Daithi sighs. “The Miraculous _is_ the same as your magic. The difference is that the one using the Miraculous takes on the role of, essentially, the non-magic witch to the Miraculous’ familiar.”

“There’s no pact.” Sitri says. “Ladybug isn’t a witch.”

“No,” Daithi agrees, “it’s just the best comparison we can make of the relationship between her and the Miraculous to something you’d understand.”

Marinette blinks dumbly. “What do you know about the Miraculous?”

It should, perhaps, not surprise her that he knows about the magic of the Miraculous. Everyone in Paris knows the bare essentials, that is that her earrings are what give her the powers she has – that’s unavoidable with Hawk Moth demanding them every other day – but no one knows exactly how it works.

A witch and her familiar… it’s not too far off from her and Tikki. She doesn’t know much about witches and familiars – nothing seems _quite_ as they are in folklore, so she doesn’t think she can just assume she understands it – but the idea isn’t… wrong. Does he know about the kwami? How does he know this?

But maybe the magical community just knows more? It does make some kind of sense for them to at least be aware of it.

“More than most,” Daithi says. He pauses for a moment, to give them their coffee, but also touching the armlet around his bicep as he mulls over something in his head. “My mentors are Miraculous keepers. They taught me about the community.”

He what?

Marinette knows that there are other Miraculous out there beyond the box she’s guardian of – in fact, she’s reasonably certain there are Miraculous that have never been associated with the order of the guardians to begin with – but the tales she hears of possible heroes (mostly from Alya) are few and far between. Ordinary heroes like Red Robin, or aliens or metas like Superman and his ilk, take up most of the news, not anything she recognizes as possible Miraculous.

That’s not to say that she’s never found other Miraculous users – the whole adventure in New York is a prime example of her doing just that – but the last thing she expects is to suddenly hear of more.

Daithi sighs heavily, a sound so out of character for the put-together barista that Marinette is immediately snapped back into a state of wariness. “I suppose…” he says, “it’s about time.”

Haru overtly lifts her head now, to furrow her brow at Daithi. “You don’t need to reveal anything you’re not comfortable sharing,” she says.

“D…” Sitri says, warning.

Daithi just heaves another sigh, shaking his head. “All this time you’ve been visiting, Mlle. Ladybug, but you don’t know much about me, do you?”

…He has a good point. It’s not exactly necessary to know her barista super well, but the point stands nonetheless. Daithi is very much a mystery to her.

“Not much.” She admits. “I know you’re from America. From Texas. Then you moved to France during lycée and started working here. Honestly… that’s about it.”

Red Robin mutters, “Still haven’t figured out how you met Okumura, or how Kirijo comes into play, or how you got involved in all this magic stuff at all if you’re supposed to be a normal person yourself.”

Daithi worries his lip for a moment. “Well, then this is long overdue.” His eyes lift to meet Marinette’s, and only Marinette’s, and he says, “Forgive me, Guardian of the Miraculous. Your position warrants a proper introduction, and I’ve thus far refused to give you that. I am Daithi McNamara, keeper of the ant Miraculous of domination, and student to the keepers of patience and liminality.” He hesitates again, breaking eye contact and shuffling as if losing nerve, and says, “I don’t know how much your mentor taught you, so maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you, but I assume you’re going to want to meet Akkro.”

Marinette sees Daithi, looking openly uncomfortable for the first time since she’s known him, glance to Red Robin and then back to her.

_He has a Miraculous_ , Marinette thinks. _He’s had a Miraculous this whole time?_ Then, as her brain catches up, she thinks, _Akkro? That must be his kwami._

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. Another Miraculous user in Paris, where Hawk Moth might try to take it. Someone who seems to know a lot about the Miraculous and magic in general, who was apparently taught by two other Miraculous users, probably back in America.

Has he just sat by this whole time, watching her and Chat Noir fight, doing nothing despite wielding the same power? Is putting him in the line of sight of Hawk Moth just too dangerous, given his (probably larger than hers) knowledge about magic? Or would he turn the tide and put an end to this faster?

Part of her wants to be angry, that there is another person like her, another Miraculous user, here who has hidden from her this whole time, but the truth is she just doesn’t know what to feel.

Throat dry, Marinette says, “Where did you get it?”

Daithi bows his head. “I assume the same way you got yours. My mentors entrusted it to me.”

“And Akkro. That’s your…” It feels wrong to say it, with Sitri and Haru watching expectantly. Red Robin knows about the kwami – it’s necessary, since he’s looking for a Miraculous, to give him all the information she can – but they shouldn’t. Except they do? They’re definitely in on it, on Daithi’s side, so Marinette supposes there is no need for that kind of secrecy now. “Kwami?”

Daithi nods. He goes to the door leading to the back, cracks it open, and calls Akkro’s name through it.

A little kwami, pitch black, or maybe a dark, dark brown – it’s hard to tell in the café’s cozy lighting – zips out through the open door to grin at Marinette. “Oh, we’re telling her?” Akkro asks. “About time.” He giggles, zooming up to examine Marinette closely, as well as Red Robin. “It took you guys forever to figure this place out. I thought I’d never get to say hi! So, hi! I’ve never met the ladybug of creation before. It’s nice to meet their keeper, at least.”

“A pleasure to meet you, too, Akkro.” Marinette says, smiling despite her conflicting emotions, because this little kwami is just too earnest.

Akkro nods quickly, already saying, “My keeper has been tearing his hair out over you, you know.”

“Akkro!” Daithi protests, but Marinette can already tell that there’s no stopping this little guy when he gets going.

“He’s _so_ worried you’re going to hate him for not joining you to take back Hawk Moth’s Miraculous,” Akkro says. “So stupid, right? I mean, it’s not like he needs your permission to stay out of it and he’s _easily_ stronger than you, anyway, so it’s not like you stand a chance of taking me from him or anything.”

_Excuse me?_ Marinette shares an incredulous look with Red Robin.

“Because this is _our_ place,” Akkro says fiercely. All of a sudden, he’s glaring at Marinette. “And no guardian has authority over us, so who cares what your title is?”

“Akkro,” Daithi hisses, “you’re being rude.”

Akkro huffs, and with one last glare flies over to settle on Daithi’s head. Daithi himself sighs. “I’m sorry about him. He’s protective. It’s true that I’ve been worrying about this, so he’s just…”

Marinette smiles. “I understand.” It’s not hard to see how much Akkro cares for Daithi, just from this scene alone. If Daithi really is worried that Marinette will try to take some kind of action against him, maybe for some perceived failure of standing by when he could help, then she understands that Akkro is only trying to nip that in the bud.

In his own way.

Besides, Daithi introduces himself as the keeper of domination. Daithi to domination being as she is to creation just does not compute in Marinette’s mind – he’s far to mild-mannered for such a title, but she does at least see that spark in Akkro that makes it make sense.

“I think I get the picture,” Marinette says, “but I do have one question.”

“One?” Red Robin gasps. “I have _so many_ questions.”

Daithi laughs, a little awkwardly. “I’ll answer if I can.”

Marinette eyes him, unsure if she really should even ask. He’s not _obligated_ to help, just because he has a Miraculous. Technically speaking, this business deals with just Miraculous from _her_ Miracle Box, so there is a case to be made that it should be kept within her order and he _shouldn’t_ intervene. Besides, not everyone is cut out to be a hero. She won’t judge him for not choosing that life.

But she has to ask. “Why did you decide not to help with Hawk Moth?”

Like he’s expecting the question – Marinette knows he is – Daithi deflates. “I hate fighting,” he says simply. “I have a responsibility here, to be available if the community needs me.” He adds. With a glance to Haru, he says, “I’ve been working on other issues, too. Nothing I’m willing to share, sorry.”

“I see.”

“I almost stepped in, once,” Daithi says. “On Heroes Day.”

Marinette flinches, remembering that day. Such a difficult battle, with so many akuma, and she was so close to victory… that failure stings.

“Akkro’s power, it can take the power of those defeated on a battlefield,” Daithi says. “In an ordinary akuma battle, I’d essentially have no magic power like your Lucky Charm or Chat’s Cataclysm, but in an incident like Heroes Day, I’d be near undefeatable, with the combined powers of every defeated akuma, and I’d only get stronger as the battle goes on. That’s the power of this Miraculous.” He gently touches the armlet around his bicep.

“That would have been very useful,” Marinette says. “We might have gotten Hawk Moth’s Miraculous back then, if you’d decided to help out.”

Daithi reluctantly nods. “I’ve been keeping an eye out. In the event that you are defeated, I could come in with your powers. Fix everything if you can’t. But… as I said, I have a responsibility here. On Heroes Day, when I was trying to decide whether to reveal myself or not, I ended up with someone relying on me.”

“You had to decide whether to abandon them to join Ladybug,” Red Robin says, “or to stay out of the battle and help this person.”

“Exactly.” Daithi nods. “You’re right that if I had chosen the former, Hawk Moth would likely be defeated right now. But I’m not the kind of person who will simply let someone suffer. I made the decision to trust you to succeed, because if I hadn’t, then that person who was relying on me may have died. That would be unrelated to the battle, and thus outside of your ability to cure, Ladybug. If you’d failed… perhaps many more would have died, but… I couldn’t let go of the one.”

Oh. Marinette sighs. The trolley problem. Those kinds of decisions… that’s what sucks most about being a hero. “You made the right choice,” she says firmly.

“I made _my_ choice,” Daithi says. “The one I can live with.”

“You made the right choice,” Red Robin says.

It doesn’t hit Marinette until now just what Daithi does here. Even seeing Franz the werewolf and the destroyed kitchen doesn’t quite drive it home, but this mentioned decision does.

Daithi may not be a superhero, he may not soar over the rooftops in the light of day, with the eyes of the city on him, but he’s still no different from Marinette. When it comes down to it, their job is to help people. Marinette has the extra burden of Hawk Moth making that job difficult, and Daithi has the burden of helping a community necessarily overlooked by normal people.

Community centers, resources, even therapists and doctors – all of them might be able to help members of Sitri’s community to an extent, but they’ll always fall short because they don’t _know_. Without knowing the differences between how their bodies work, or the details of the struggles that come with their specific circumstances, even professionals for ordinary humans can’t help.

Daithi has to play the part of an ordinary barista in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, keep this place running, all while maintaining it as all of that for this community. A one-stop shop for people who need help with things that ordinary people won’t even believe exist.

Even Marinette thinks that’s an absurd amount of pressure.

And the only time she sees his cool demeanor break is when he’s nervous about her judgement. That’s… ridiculous. It’s utterly ridiculous. But she definitely understands now why he has so much support from someone as powerful as Haru Okumura. She’s not sure how Kirijo comes into play, but she understands now why they’d support him, too.

Daithi, this place in the city where they can open up, must be _everything_ to the community. He describes himself before as a historian and a teacher, but he’s more than that, isn’t he? He’s whatever the community needs him to be to get their problems solved.

Daithi sighs. “Anyway. That’s my story. I do apologize for not reaching out, Ladybug. At the very least, I should have offered to teach you what I know.”

That’s hardly his whole story, but it is some of it, and it puts him in perspective, so Marinette isn’t inclined to push him for any more tonight. “There is no apology needed. You were doing your job here.”

She can’t deny that a more experienced Miraculous user to help out would have been nice, especially in the beginning, but she honestly can’t begin to guess how Master Fu would have reacted to him appearing. It may be for the best that he stayed underground. Regardless, she understands that he doesn’t want to fight. However skilled he may be – and she suspects he is very, to take down a werewolf with only minimal, minor injuries – that doesn’t mean fighting is ever a good thing.

She will never begrudge him for wishing to live a life of peace. Even the way he describes himself, historian, teacher, belies his distaste for fighting. Not a protector, a teacher. Not a leader, a historian. He acts like a resource, not a hero. Or, at least, he acts like that’s how he thinks of himself.

Besides… she can see in the glare of Akkro’s pitch-dark eyes from atop Daithi’s head. She sees another reason, with Akkro being so open about his distrust. A reason that Haru Okumura tells her outright the very same day she originally learns about the magic community.

They don’t know if they can trust her.

Or, they couldn’t. She doesn’t know if that status is different now, considering she finds out not by their choice, but because she does not stand back when she hears that crash. She charges in and finds out for herself. They don’t willingly trust her with that knowledge.

Daithi is responsible for Café Noir and its customers. If he brings her in, even just to speak of Miraculous matters, he risks exposing Sitri and Franz and everyone else. If he reaches out way back then, at the beginning, he has no way of possibly knowing how she will handle that information. She could be a threat to the community he so clearly loves.

The community may be smaller than the city, but as Marinette sees it, Daithi isn’t any different from her. In his place, she likely would make the exact same choices.

Red Robin, endlessly curious, wants to ask questions, but Marinette is feeling the late night. She has a lot to think about, a lot to process, and wants to go to sleep. So, she thanks Daithi for the drink and heads home for the night.

Who could have imagined that Red Robin and her quest to find the perfect cup of coffee would lead to this?

* * *

“Hey, Sitri,” Marinette says. “How are you doing? I realized with everything else going on that I never asked what exactly happened.”

Sitri eyes her, amused smile on his lips, and says simply, “I got fired. Didn’t have an income for a while, so I couldn’t afford to buy my tonic in bulk. I also knew coming here would get D on my case, so I just… uh… didn’t. And put up with the consequences. Didn’t help that I had to somehow find more work before I was evicted, so I didn’t really have time, either.”

Marinette winces. “That’s tough. Aren’t you still in _lycée_ , though? You have to pay rent?”

Sitri snorts. He lowers his voice an octave, in a crude facsimile of some man. “If you want to be treated like an adult, you can pay for your own food and housing,” he says.

The dismissive way he talks about it is probably more unsettling to Marinette than even the issue itself. Sitri’s parents make him pay rent? Even never-there, negligent Gabriel Agreste doesn’t make his son _pay_ him to live in his own home!

“Is he still giving you trouble?” Daithi asks, openly scowling. “I keep telling you, Mme. Denis-”

“Has a whole family to look after already,” Sitri says. “You know I hate taking charity.”

Daithi sighs, muttering, “Seriously wonder if that dead-beat has anything to do with that.”

Though Daithi says it under his breath, not meant to be part of the conversation, Sitri obviously hears him because he snorts. “Honestly? Probably. Doesn’t change the way I feel. Mme. Denis is taking in new pups all the time. I’m not going to add to her stress.”

Then it’s Daithi’s turn to snort. “You, M. Sitri? You’re so stubborn, she’d probably consider you a godsend. Besides, you’re older. You can help her with the others if you aren’t comfortable letting her dote on you.”

Sitri chuckles. “You know, that might work. Except the only thing my dad hates more than me is not being able to control me. The last thing I want to do is inflict him on the poor lady. The moment he hears I’m with Mme. Denis, it’ll be ‘weres this’ and ‘dirty beasts that’ and I’m going to be back home, but also listening to a bunch of phobic bullshit.”

Daithi sighs, eyes trailing to the counter where his fingers curl so tightly into the towel he’s using to clean the counter that his knuckles turn white. That is the only hint that he also feels the anger that Marinette does, hearing Sitri describe his situation.

“If I tell the boss-”

“ _No_ ,” Sitri says. “I’m eighteen, anyway. Legally, I’m not obligated to have anything to do with him. Just let me bide my time until I can get my own place figured out.”

“Sorry to intrude,” Red Robin says, “but have you considered that he’s demanding rent from you specifically so that you cannot save up to afford to live anywhere else?”

Sitri chuckles darkly. “Oh, I know that’s exactly why he’s doing it. Well, that and he wants the extra spending money. He’s been stealing out of my accounts since I was old enough to work. I turn old enough and open my own accounts that he can’t access, and he demands rent. He’s not subtle about it.”

“What kind of parent does that to a kid?” Marinette asks quietly.

“Mine,” Sitri says flatly. He sighs, then. “My dad isn’t like me. He’s a sorcerer. A human, by most standards. He’s always resented Mom for dumping me on him, and me for being a demon instead of human like him.”

“What does that matter?” Marinette asks. “You seem just like everyone else in all the ways that matter.”

“Yeah, most people think that way.” Sitri sighs. “But… it doesn’t help that I’m everything he hates about cubi. I’m a dancer, you know. I don’t- I’m only eighteen, I don’t do _that_ kind of dancing, but Dad just doesn’t pay attention enough, and always assumes the worst about me because I’m a demon, and also just hates me already because he never wanted me to start with, so he punishes me however he can.

“There’s a lot of… slut-shaming, I guess, in cubi communities. Especially from the outside. Even if we aren’t doing anything like that, people assume we are. Dad excuses his stealing from me as ‘confiscating dirty money’ or whatever. It’s supposed to teach me not to… well, to not be how he assumes cubi are.”

Sitri sighs heavily, taking a swig of his coffee – coffee this time, not his special brew, which Marinette notes is probably a good thing – before he says, “Of course, I see right through him, because he’s a rat bastard who doesn’t think I’m smart enough to see past the next pair of boobs on the street. All he’s really doing is using me to fund his mid-life crisis.”

“Dude,” Red Robin says. “Your dad sucks.”

Sitri snorts. “Tell me about it.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to go off about him, but I guess you kind of do need to know the context to understand what happened when I worried you guys so much. So, yeah. I’m dealing with that, then I lose my job, so I don’t have an income anymore. If I don’t pay rent, I’m out on the street because despite what bullshit it is that I have to pay anything, it’s still less than renting an actual apartment, and also I no longer have an income at all, so I’m scrambling just to find some way to make ends meet.”

“And that worked out well, I take it?”

Sitri laughs. “Yeah. Thank god for furries.”

Marinette chokes a little on her coffee, taken aback by the statement. “Huh?”

Sitri grins widely, only giggling more. “Art commissions.” Sitri says by way of explanation. “I’m pretty sure the furries are just about single-handedly funding me right now.”

Honestly? That’s valid. Marinette may be primarily a fashion designer, but she has close enough ties to the illustration side of things to know just how much money furries will throw at someone willing to take their commissions. Hell, even in her own sphere, fursuits are _damn_ expensive. She’s never made one herself, but never will she deny that it is a lucrative market.

(And now that she thinks about it, with werewolves and shapeshifters being real, maybe it’s not even as weird as their reputation makes them out to be.)

“I didn’t know you drew,” she says.

“I learned doing gesture stuff.” Sitri shrugs. “Mostly just copying it to reference later for my dancing. I wouldn’t consider myself all that great. I’d have a much harder time if I couldn’t just shapeshift and take pictures for reference.”

“You can turn into a furry?” Red Robin asks, leaning over the counter.

Snickering, Sitri answers, “Dude, you have no idea how many people have fantasies about werewolves alone. Of course, I can do furries. I can do pretty much anything organic, honestly, though the further you get from normal the more difficult it is, just energy-wise. Transfigurations like that don’t come cheap.”

“…Hang on,” Red Robin says. “You take pictures of yourself and use them as reference for your furry commissions?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Do you, uh… do _that kind_ of furry art? With pictures of yourself?”

Sitri snorts. Lips twisted into a teasing smirk, he says, “Does it _really_ matter if shapeshifting is involved?”

Red Robin opens his mouth to respond, but quickly closes it. “…That’s actually a surprisingly valid point. Huh.” Quieter, he whispers, “Does it?”

Marinette notices that Sitri doesn’t actually answer the question. Then again, he is eighteen and also drawing using those pictures as references, so he’s an adult, and shapeshifted, and also, it’s just an artist’s rendition at best, so she supposes it’s… _probably_ far enough removed that it doesn’t count as sending people his nudes for money. If she squints.

Though, honestly, she knows Sitri enough by now that she knows he’ll never confirm if he actually does do that, just because it’s funny to keep them guessing. The moment Red Robin asks, there is never any chance that Sitri will give them a straight answer. It’s actually plenty likely that he only does safe-for-work commissions. But because it’s out there now, he’s going to milk the idea for all the entertainment it can provide whether it’s true or not.

Regardless, while Red Robin pulls at his hair muttering through an existential crisis over whether Sitri’s metaphorical furry penis counts as costume or reality, Marinette decidedly does _not_ think about that and instead continues the conversation. Like a sensible person.

“At least you’ve managed to calm things down,” she says. She wants _so badly_ to step in and help him, but besides the fact that the only things she can think of to do so would either reveal that Ladybug visits a random café (which is, notably, trying to stay somewhat under the radar) and has _friends_ among the regulars, or requires her to use connections as Marinette ( _Isn’t Clara looking for new backup dancers?_ ) that she can’t access because she can’t risk her identity like that, even to Sitri and Daithi. Plus… Sitri really hates accepting help from others. He won’t accept any of her ideas, anyway. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Sitri rolls his eyes, smiling. “You could try trusting me. I know you guys are too helpful for your own good, and you’re only offering because you care and all, but I really do just want to handle this situation on my own. That goes for you, too, D.” He adds a playful glare at Daithi for good measure. “No interfering.”

“If you need to be protected from yourself,” Daithi says, “we will do it.” Somehow, it sounds almost like a threat. But Marinette can’t say she disagrees. Daithi speaks for the both of them.

Sitri laughs. “Believe me, I know. You’re insufferable that way.” He leans on the counter, towards Daithi. “If you weren’t so cute, I don’t think I’d put up with it.”

Daithi sighs. “Just remember that you have people who want to help you.”

“And that means more than you know,” Sitri says, the teasing in his eyes softening to something much more sincere. “But it’s important to me to make it out of this myself. Just trust me, that I won’t let it get so bad I _can’t_ get out of it. Or at least, that if I do, I’ll ask for help then, alright? I can do this.”

Though he shakes his head, Daithi reluctantly agrees.

“Why is it so important to do it yourself?” Marinette asks. She definitely understands the reluctance to burden others with her problems. She much prefers solving her personal problems herself if she can help it, too. But sometimes… sometimes, a Red Robin needs to be called in, to do something that she just can’t. That’s a lesson she learns recently, and hard.

Sitri rests his cheek on his palm, frowning at his cup of coffee. “Well, it… I guess, it’s objectively a pretty stupid reason, but it means a lot to me. I just want to prove to him that I can do it. I want to show him that I can rise above him on my own two feet, despite everything he’s putting in my way to knock me down.”

He sighs. “I guess it’s mostly a pride thing? I don’t like accepting charity at the best of times, but with this, I _really_ want to prove that I’m better than him. One on one. Plus, I know in my head that he’ll never accept me no matter what, but even so I don’t want to give him the excuse to accuse me of just… seducing people into giving me the easy road through life. …Maybe part of it is that I’m afraid of being the incubus he thinks I am, and accepting gifts is the first step to… exchanging favors.”

With a sharp shake of his head, he says, “But that’s _way_ too deep. Point is, lots of reasons. A lot of them might be kind of stupid, but it’s still important to me. So just… let me do this, alright?”

Oh. Marinette had no idea… “Sitri…”

“Please, don’t start with the pity party,” Sitri groans.

Marinette takes a deep breath. Sitri _would_ hate that. She should try to stay positive. Still. “Fine.” She concedes. “So long as you promise you’ll come to us if you can’t do it alone.”

“Hell yeah,” Sitri says. “I’d rather compromise that than _lose_ to that bastard. That doesn’t mean at least trying to do it alone isn’t worth the effort.”

“I suppose.” She admits, he’s not entirely wrong. There is merit to doing things alone just as there is in relying on others. The trick is identifying when which is more appropriate. Marinette admittedly isn’t very good at that herself. It still sucks that his decision means he’ll be in that terrible situation longer.

It is his decision to make, though.

Marinette glances over and, yes, Red Robin is still all furrowed brows and muttering to himself. It’ll take him a little longer to work himself out of that existential crisis, then. At least she has great coffee.

* * *

After the first time she sees Franz as a werewolf and her introduction to the magical community, Daithi goes over the procedure of how community members normally go about getting help from him and the café, inviting her to come if she ever needs him.

(According to him, being a Miraculous holder makes her a part of the community, despite her being an entirely non-magical human otherwise, though he notes that it’s not as though he’d turn away Red Robin if he needed help, anyway.)

For most things, minor things that can wait – questions and the like – they just go through the front door. It’s part of why he’s so lax about people hanging out in the café, where some places will get irritated if someone comes in and doesn’t order anything. He doesn’t expect everyone to be a paying customer and wants everyone to know that they can just come in and talk to him if they need to, with no obligation to buy anything.

If the problem is more urgent, like Franz’ shifting, or if someone gets hurt, or even if it’s just a sensitive matter that needs to be handled in private, they’re welcome to just come in through the back door. He has a little bell back there that will send a message to his phone, so that he knows someone needs him if he’s in the front with customers at the time, just like on that very first day Marinette and Red Robin visit Café Noir.

Marinette has a lot of respect for Daithi for setting it all up. He admits that he bases the whole operation off of some bar in his hometown, but it’s still impressive that he does all of this alone.

She admittedly never expects to use it herself.

She’s fleeing, heart lodged in her throat, already pushing her time limit as she frantically searches for somewhere to detransform when she remembers that Café Noir is right in the next alley. Sure, the akuma is still right on her tail, but what can she really do when Chat Noir and Red Robin both are blocks away dealing with the damn minions?

It seems like a good idea at the time, in lieu of literally any other option. She hates to bring the akuma to Daithi’s doorstep, and by extension Hawk Moth in proximity to a hidden Miraculous, but she’s out of time, out of options, and she knows he’ll shelter her to give Tikki a moment of respite.

So, that’s exactly what she does. Daithi himself, as well as Haru Okumura, is in the back room when she barges in, so she stumbles through an explanation about the akuma coming and her running out of time and the next thing she knows she’s being shoved into a storage closet.

The door doesn’t even close before her transformation falls, but Daithi does manage to turn his back on her.

“Hurry up, Tikki,” Marinette says, voice far too tight. “The akuma will be here at any moment.”

“Don’t worry.” Daithi’s voice comes through the still-open door as perfectly calm as he usually is. “I’ll hold it off for a moment. Buy you time.”

Panic shocks through Marinette’s chest like lightning. “You can’t! You shouldn’t let Hawk Moth know you’re here!”

A gentle voice hums. “She’s right.” Marinette peeks out of the closet while Tikki eats, spying the two baristas both facing away from her, towards the back door the akuma will likely follow her through.

Daithi turns his head, and for a moment Marinette freezes, thinking he’s going to look her way, but he just glances at Haru instead. She nods, a gentle, calm smile gracing her lips. He sighs. He shares a look with Akkro, and then reaches behind him and under his shirt, extracting the fake gun he keeps there.

_What does he intend to do with that? It won’t do anything to an akuma!_

There’s a rumbling. “Tikki!” Marinette hisses.

“Almost ready,” Tikki says. “I just need a little more time!”

“We don’t have that!”

“Take your time,” Daithi says. “I’ll buy you a few minutes, at least. That should be more than enough.”

“Any second!” Haru warns.

Daithi nods, bowing his head a little, and since he’s facing away from her and not raising his voice Marinette _barely_ picks up on his words, but nonetheless he speaks. “Persona.”

Then, he raises the gun to his own temple and pulls the trigger.

A gunshot, and the sound of breaking glass. Daithi’s head jerks sharply away from the smoking barrel of the gun.

Marinette screams.

Visceral, piercing, ear-splitting horror rips itself out of her lungs before she can even begin to process the sight of Daithi, the mild-mannered, polite, responsible barista, casually shooting himself in the head.

Never mind that the gun doesn’t actually shoot anything, or that even if he does have those kinds of… dark thoughts, this is certainly not the time he would be doing this, right after promising to buy her a few minutes. Never mind that his own boss, Haru Okumura, doesn’t so much as flinch, or even that Daithi remains standing after pulling the trigger. No, those facts don’t pierce through the fog of abject horror until a minute later when her pounding heart can’t keep up its frenzied pace any longer and slows enough for her to process them.

In the next moment, she’s so relieved to see him still standing and in one piece that she doesn’t spare a thought to how she is collapsed back onto her butt, one foot splayed out past the doorframe, or how both Daithi and Haru are looking at her, or how she’s not currently in costume.

In the moment after that, she’s still too preoccupied to realize that they’re both staring at her unmasked, on account of the almost-translucent, nearly-glowing, enormous armored warrior kicking the akuma out of the door the moment it breaks in. It’s about one and a half times the size of Daithi, and thus almost comical in proportion to the door itself, but he pushes out of it, leaving just the sound of battle in the alley to distract her.

_That’s_ when she realizes that, in her panic, she falls back, kicking open the door protecting her secret identity, and also screams bloody murder so that Daithi and Haru honestly have little choice but to look back to check on her.

Shit.

“Boss, I got to focus on Mars,” Daithi says hurriedly, worry creasing his face as he looks between Haru and Marinette.

“I’ll take care of her,” Haru says unflinchingly, immediately making her way over to Marinette.

_These two are entirely too calm in a crisis,_ Marinette thinks. Then, she thinks, _It’s a crisis! They know my secret identity! I’m going to have to give up Tikki! Move to Venezuela! Get plastic surgery and change my name!_

“Can you hear me, Mlle. Ladybug? Please, don’t worry. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

And the pretty boss lady is a lying liar who lies! This is the worst case scenario!

“Ladybug! Please, calm down! Daithi can hold off the akuma, but you need to defeat it.”

Aw, damn. That’s right. She still has an obligation to take care of. That’s enough to get her back into gear, at least.

Tikki grins at her, despite everything, and says, “I’m ready when you are!”

Right. Right. Transform, kick akuma butt, then… deal with whatever the hell is happening here. She can do this.

After a deep breath, she transforms. Then, she’s back out through the door to deal with the akuma.

That strange warrior is still there, holding the akuma in the alley, guarding the door. Sword in one hand, shield in the other, and decked out like some kind of Roman general, not to mention his stature, he makes for an impressive sight. Marinette would think it another akuma were she not already dealing with one, and if it did not have this odd blue glow about it that she’s never seen on akuma before.

Once Marinette dives into the fray and gets the situation relatively under control, the warrior points its sword at the akuma, summoning a bunch of brightly glowing paper tags that float like they’re stuck to an invisible cylinder around the akuma, diameter just about equal to the alley’s width.

“Keep it within the circle!” Daithi’s voice appears from within the café. He doesn’t poke his head out to look, but Marinette decides to just trust him.

It takes a hot second for those floating, golden paper tags to _do_ anything, and during that time Marinette has to push the akuma back so that it doesn’t escape, but then a bright, bright, blinding light appears.

Marinette _thinks_ it comes from the tags, but she can’t be sure because she can’t _see_ , but whatever happens, when the light fades and the paper tags disappear into thin air, the akuma is laying prone on the concrete.

The warrior disappears too, evanescing into the ether just like the light and the tags themselves.

Sure. Okay. Why not?

Marinette cautiously approaches the akuma, unsure if they’re even still breathing, and is frankly too afraid to check at this point as she plucks the possessed item from them and breaks it apart.

(She thinks the akuma is still alive. She’s not actually sure it’s possible to kill an akuma, or at the very least the transformation should end if the victim dies, but also she can’t recall ever _knocking out_ an akuma, either, and she can still see Daithi with that gun pointed at his own head when she closes her eyes, so she doesn’t have the heart to check. Better to just fix all the damage and think about it later.)

She uses her powers, releases her breath in relief when the victim groans and rises to their knees, and then allows herself another relieved sigh when Chat Noir and Red Robin drop down into the alley with her.

Both boys eye her strangely, then each other, and then the back door of the café they both recognize, and some unspoken agreement passes between them because they nod, and Chat goes to the akuma victim, quickly guiding them away with a bright smile, while Red Robin grabs her arm and pulls her back into Café Noir.

“What happened?” Red Robin asks.

“I am so sorry,” Daithi says, head bowed. “I didn’t mean to look. I didn’t realize you were watching, so when you screamed, I just-”

“If it helps,” Haru says, smiling, “neither of us have any idea who you are, even having seen your face.”

“Oh,” Red Robin says. “You saw her without her mask.”

Marinette stares at Daithi, at the gun still in his hand, and, utterly unable to hold it in, shouts, “You _shot_ yourself!”

Daithi flinches. “Uh… yeah, that’s… I did tell you that it’s fake?”

“You _shot_ yourself?” Red Robin asks, face scrunching up as he turns his gaze to Daithi.

“It’s not a real gun! I’m fine, see?” Daithi steps forward tentatively, then quickly looks down to the gun in his hand and tucks it away out of sight. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Marinette isn’t thinking straight when she tackles him. Even if she doesn’t necessarily know him _that_ well, he’s her friend and she thought for a moment that he… damn it! She wraps him up in her arms and crushes him in a hug. “You scared me!”

Daithi squeaks awkwardly, and doesn’t return the hug, but neither does he push her off. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… didn’t think you were watching.”

“No, hold on, back up,” Red Robin says. “What’s this about _shooting yourself_?”

Marinette doesn’t release Daithi to watch everyone, so she just hears Haru answer. “The, um… gun, isn’t actually a gun. It’s called an evoker. Daithi still needs to use it to summon his persona in the real world.”

Evoker? Persona? Why is that familiar? What is it that Daithi says way back when Red Robin first grills him about the gun? Something like, “It’s not meant to shoot bullets, just to evoke the feeling of it.”

Feeling how awkward he is, Marinette finally lets Daithi go. He sighs, relaxing considerably now that she’s not touching him.

“Summon his persona?” Red Robin asks. “What on earth does that mean?”

Daithi shuffles in place a little. “Uh… you didn’t happen to see a glowing Roman warlord on your way in, did you?”

Red Robin arches a brow. “No.”

“Ah. Then this will be a lot more difficult. Ladybug saw it. That was my persona. He’s called Mars.”

Red Robin looks to her, so she nods. “He used some strange power to knock out the akuma. It just…” She snaps her fingers.

If it’s even possible, Red Robin’s brows rise ever higher.

Daithi just slowly nods. “Hamaon. Anyway, Mars is… well… it’s hard to explain. Boss?”

Haru giggles. “The persona is the power of the self. Mars is Daithi, and Daithi is Mars. The rest… why, I image we’d need tea to go over it all.”

Red Robin pinches his nose. “Let me get this straight,” he says. “You can summon the Roman god of war to fight for you, and to do that, you shoot yourself.”

“Technically, Mars just takes the appearance of the Roman god of war. It’d be incorrect to call him the literal god,” Daithi says. “But, uh… yeah, basically.”

“…I’m not sure coffee is strong enough to get through this conversation.”

“We do have alcohol!” Haru chirps.

“Which we can’t serve him,” Daithi adds quickly, frowning at Haru. “Because vigilantes do not have legal ages.”

He has a point. Marinette hasn’t considered that before. Of course, she’s still sixteen, and is a _responsible_ hero, so it doesn’t even occur to her to use the mask to get over age requirements, but she doesn’t consider that people might just assume she’s an adult without any prompting. She knows some do, but at least in the context of getting alcohol the idea blindsides her.

…And makes her a little nervous about whether Chat might try something if the idea reaches him.

“More importantly,” Daithi says, “Ladybug, I promise you that we really do have no idea who you are, so your secret identity is safe… as much as it can be.”

Right. Marinette sighs. “I’m going to have to talk to Tikki about it.”

“Who cares?” The voice is brash, one Marinette rarely hears, so it takes her a moment to pinpoint it as Akkro, perched on a nearby counter. “You’re part of our community. You’re under _our_ protection, so it’s only right that you show your face.”

“Akkro,” Daithi says. “She doesn’t need to share anything she doesn’t want to.”

Akkro scoffs. “Doesn’t have to, sure, but paranoia’s a bad look. With a domain as wild and free as creation, I didn’t think Tikki would have such a stick up her butt.”

“The situation is dangerous,” Marinette says. She knows Akkro can be rude, and she knows he doesn’t really _mean_ anything by it, except what he literally says – he just doesn’t have much of a filter in the rare moments he deigns to talk at all – but it doesn’t sit right with her just to let someone, anyone, insult Tikki. “If my identity is compromised, Hawk Moth could come after me.”

“And you’ll win. Or you’ll lose. Strength will win the day, in the end, and _my_ keeper is the strongest. Since he’s decided to protect you, that means we’ll win. Nothing to worry about.”

Marinette honestly has no idea how to respond to that. The little guy has a lot of confidence, doesn’t he? Marinette wishes she can share a fraction of that.

Red Robin clears his throat. “Well, Ladybug will need to speak with her kwami to decide how to move forward with the identity issue. In the meantime, can you two explain what on earth a persona is? And why you have to shoot yourself?”

Haru claps her hands, grinning. “I’ll put on a pot of tea. You all go ahead and get started while I prepare the drinks, okay?”

Daithi sighs. “Yes, Boss. Come on, guys, we’ll talk out front. No sense in standing for this.”

He leads them to a booth and surprises Marinette by sitting down across from them. She’s so used to him being behind the counter that him actually being in one of the booths in weird.

Red Robin steeples his fingers and levels his gaze at Daithi. “I thought it was strange that an ordinary human like Haru Okumura was involved in this. I spent way too long wondering how you managed to get the backing of Okumura Foods for something that they shouldn’t even know about. But it has something to do with persona, doesn’t it? While it seems like you’re the resident expert on the magical community, you turn to her when persona is brought up.”

Daithi inclines his head. “They do say you’re the best detective… yes. I defer to my boss in matters of persona.”

“Why?”

“Why not? In matters of the community, my mentors were other keepers, as I mentioned before. But Boss taught me about persona.”

Red Robin hums. “And what exactly is persona? Can I see yours?”

“Sure.” Daithi pulls out the gun, the evoker, then hesitates, eyeing Marinette. “Uh… you don’t have to watch if… well, I’m just giving you both a fair warning this time.” Marinette considers shutting her eyes, but… no. It takes her off-guard the first time, but she won’t look away. When neither of them make any move to close their eyes, Daithi shrugs. “Your choice. Alright, then.”

He lifts the gun to his temple and fires. Watching him now, Marinette’s heart still kicks into overdrive. The imagery alone is just too much, it’s too difficult to convince herself that it’s okay, even though she knows that it is.

And this time, from this angle, she can see the grimace, and that when Daithi’s head jerks away from the barrel of the evoker, it isn’t from any sort of impact, but a _flinch_.

(Which makes sense. Even knowing the evoker isn’t a real gun, Marinette knows that she would not be able to pull that trigger. She can’t imagine anyone can do that without flinching.)

Even before turning to examine Mars, which appears standing next to their table, Red Robin grimaces as well and says, “Yikes, dude.”

“Trust me,” Daithi says. “I know.”

Mars doesn’t stick around long. Daithi lets Red Robin stare at him for a while, and then Mars disappears again. With a heavy breath, Daithi says, “Sorry. It’s hard to maintain him for long, and we already fought today.”

“It’s not a problem,” Red Robin says. “Thank you for demonstrating. So, what exactly was that?”

“That was Mars. He’s me. My persona,” Daithi says. “A persona is… the mask you use to face the world.”

Red Robin furrows his brow. “I don’t understand.”

Daithi sighs. “How much do you know about Jungian archetypes?”

“Some,” Red Robin says.

“Next to nothing,” Marinette answers.

“Right,” Daithi says, “well, the persona is a manifestation of the subconscious. It’s one side of a coin.”

“If we’re referencing Jung, the other side would be the shadow?” Red Robin asks.

Daithi nods. “That’s right. Everyone has a shadow. It’s all the parts of ourselves we deny. Our capacity for cruelty, our jealousy, those base feelings that we’d ordinarily never give into. A persona, though, is the other side of that. It’s what we show the world, our mask that we let others see. Two parts of the self, but the subconscious, not the ego.”

“Okay,” Red Robin says. “I follow. But everyone has that. Why does yours somehow allow you to summon Mars? And why do you have to shoot yourself?”

“Well, it’s a combination of things. “Daithi hums. “Simply put, Mars is my persona, but he’s also my shadow. A persona like him can’t be summoned unless you accept your shadow. And a persona like him manifests in response to a goal. Accepting the ugly parts of yourself to rebel against unfair shackles, accepting your shadow in pursuit of the truth, even about yourself, accepting reality, and death,” he gestures to the evoker, “to survive. Different people have different reasons, but it all boils down to this: the shadow is the true self. When someone can face their true self, they have the potential to use that to manifest a persona, to face life’s hardships.

“That doesn’t mean everyone who accepts their true selves can summon a persona like I can,” Daithi says, “but they do have the potential to. Those who deny their shadows can’t.”

“Huh,” Red Robin says. “So, if I accept all the parts of myself that I don’t want to see, then shoot myself in the head, I could summon one of those things, too?”

Daithi snorts. “You say that like it’s easy.”

…Accepting the worst parts of themselves, huh? Marinette doesn’t think she’s strong enough to do that. Chloé, then later Lila, pointing out her weaknesses still leaves an awful taste in her mouth. Not just for their bullying, either, but the fact that what they say, at least some of it, is _right_. Marinette can easily admit that she isn’t perfect, that she has that shadow that she doesn’t want anyone to see, but she still isn’t brave enough to face it herself.

No wonder Daithi usually seems so put together. Someone that comfortable in himself that he can actually summon his persona like that must be something special.

“Why the gun?”

“Evoker.” Daithi corrects Red Robin, then sighs. “Actually, a persona can be summoned without it, but that normally requires a great deal of concentration and training. I’m not nearly skilled enough with it to summon Mars on command in a situation where I’d actually need him. So, the evoker triggers a stress response and instinct takes over – Mars comes out to protect me.”

“You have to basically convince yourself that you’re going to die every time you summon your persona?” Red Robin openly gapes at him. “That sounds… traumatizing.”

Daithi chuckles darkly. “Oh, it is. But not every time. I’m not good at it, so I can’t do it on the spot, but I _can_ summon Mars without it. I’m still practicing to get better.”

“Tea is ready!” Haru calls, emerging from the door with a tray in hand. She smiles serenely at them all as she puts down the tray and puts each of their cups in front of them before elegantly sliding into place next to Daithi in the booth with her own cup. “So, how far have we gotten?”

“We’ve covered the basics of what a persona is,” Red Robin answers. “Though, I’m still confused about why it manifests that way.”

“I’m not sure anyone has the answer to that,” Haru says. “Why do werewolves exist? Or demons, or spellcasters? Why do they work the way they do?”

Red Robin sighs. “Fair enough. So, it’s just another form of magic, then? Sitri mentioned your magic being weird.”

“Pretty much,” Daithi says.

“Any questions?” Haru asks.

“Yeah,” Marinette says, “from the community, I got the impression that magic is something you’re born with or not, but this sounds like anyone can do it.”

Daithi nods. “Well, as you grow, you develop your ego, as well as your shadow and persona. It’s not something that can happen if you don’t have a firm sense of self. But you’re right that it’s not the same thing as magical bloodlines. Spellcasters are spellcasters because they have magical blood in them, usually from changelings or demons, and magical entities are that way by default. But this… I guess you can call it magic, only requires an identity. In theory, anyone should be capable, human or no.”

Haru giggles. “I met a dog once who could summon a persona.”

“A dog,” Red Robin says flatly. “Are dogs… that self-aware?”

Haru shrugs, smiling without a care. “This one was, at least, so I imagine so.”

“Oh. Well. There’s another existential crisis.”

Marinette hums. “So…”

“Do I have to apologize to Robin, _again_?”

“So, anything else we should know?”

Daithi and Haru share a meaningful look, which thoroughly convinces Marinette that there _is_ something else they should know. “It’s not really relevant,” Haru says gently, after a pause, “but… maybe.”

Daithi raises his brow. “Boss? We’re telling them?”

“I talked to Kirijo-san while I was preparing the tea,” Haru says, “she agrees that the heroes should at least be informed. Since they found out about persona, there’s no longer any need to hide it.”

Daithi makes a face, obviously still unsure. “If that’s what she decided,” he says.

Haru nods, then turns to Marinette and Red Robin. “There have been some… incidents in the past involving shadows.”

“And, to clarify,” Daithi says, “we’re talking about the collective unconscious, not necessarily individual’s personal shadows.”

“Have you heard of Apathy Syndrome? Or the mental shutdown incidents in Tokyo in 2016?”

Red Robin slams his hands on the table. “I knew it! I knew magic was involved! Nanjo, Kirijo, Okumura, it all comes together!”

Haru laughs. “Yes, yes it does. Those were all shadow incidents. Iwatodai, then Inaba, then Tokyo, they all had shadow nests in them. In Iwatodai, shadows would eat victim’s psyches. That resulted in Apathy Syndrome.”

Red Robin’s eyes go wide. “They lose their sense of self. The shadows eat their ego.”

Marinette can’t say she understands that, really, but Haru nods. “Yes. Later, in Tokyo, the mental shutdown incidents were caused by someone with a persona entering the metaverse, which is a sort of alternate world, formed by the collective unconscious, and killing people’s individual shadows.”

“But the shadow is the part that _needs_ ,” Red Robin says. “At least, according to Jung. It’s the animal side, so if it’s killed…”

“Every desire is lost, yes,” Haru says. “Even the desire to eat and to survive.”

“Damn. I heard that someone was found responsible for the mental shutdowns, but I was never able to figure out how they caused them. That’s… worse than I thought.”

Marinette worries her lip. All she really knows about these incidents is learned through Red Robin’s sleep-deprived ramblings, so she doesn’t know half as much as him. Even so… “What does this have to do with Paris?” She asks. “You’re here for a reason, aren’t you?”

Haru smiles like she’s proud, and despite herself, Marinette flushes under the approving look. “That’s right. Though we don’t believe anyone but us is currently entering it, we have discovered a shadow nest in Paris. That’s why I’m here, to support Daithi and help investigate it. We’re hoping we can eliminate it before anything terrible happens.”

“A shadow nest here?” Red Robin asks. “Because of Hawk Moth? All this magic being thrown around?”

Haru hums. “We think it’s more likely because everyone is repressing their emotions. The people of Paris are rejecting more and more of themselves in an attempt to prevent akumatization, so the shadows in the collective unconscious here are getting stronger.”

“Oh,” Marinette says. She eyes Daithi. “This is what you meant when you said you were working on something you couldn’t tell us about. You’re handling the shadows so that this Apathy Syndrome doesn’t come to Paris.”

Daithi nods. “That’s exactly right. That’s just part of the reason why I haven’t helped you with the akuma. Between fighting shadows and helping the community, I don’t think I can commit to fighting on the front lines like you do.”

“That makes sense. You must be very busy.”

Daithi smiles. “A little less so since Boss found the time to come help out.”

Red Robin leans forward, speaking up again, “And in context of entering the collective unconscious to handle them, what exactly are shadows? You said they can eat someone’s ego, right?”

Haru nods. “They’re… basically monsters. They take the form of all kinds of things, though. Prominent figures in the collective unconscious give the shadows shape. Just like Daithi’s persona is based on Mars, the shadows are also based off of things we’d recognize. Mythological figures, various demons – not the kind in the magical community, the mythological kind – or even just everyday things like tables and dice. Anything prominent in the collective unconscious can help shape the shadows’ appearances.”

“Huh. And you have a persona too, right?”

“That’s right! Mine is called Milady.”

“…Milady? Really?”

Haru giggles. “Do you know Milady de Winter? From _The Three Musketeers_?”

Red Robin’s eyes widen. “Oh! Oh, okay, yeah. …Is that a good thing that your persona is Milady de Winter?”

Haru smiles slyly and does not answer. Marinette is not familiar with _The Three Musketeers_ beyond pop culture, yet somehow, from Haru’s smile, gets the feeling that it is both a very dangerous and also very fitting thing regardless.

Good, though, she has no idea.

“Suddenly, I am very afraid,” Red Robin mutters. “Milady de Winter and a literal god of war. Sure. These two aren’t terrifying at all.”

Daithi clears his throat awkwardly. “I get it, I do, but, uh… you do know that we can hear you, right?”

Red Robin stands. “…I’m going to go die now. Bye.” Then, he turns and walks out the front door.”

Marinette drops her head into her hands. “I’m sorry about him. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure he’s slept since we found out about the community. But thank you for sharing all that with us. I should be going, too. I still need to talk with Tikki. Maybe we can talk more later?”

Haru grins. “Of course. You’re welcome anytime.”

“Yeah,” Daithi says, “we’re always glad you have you.”

Just before she exits the café, Marinette hears Akkro. “He’s right to be scared.”

* * *

Tikki is surprisingly not upset about Daithi and Haru seeing Marinette unmasked. It probably helps that, so long as Marinette doesn’t visit Café Noir as herself anytime soon, the likelihood of her being identified by name is still extremely slim.

The advantages of only ever visiting masked, she supposes.

That, and Daithi and Haru will keep their mouths shut, so the only danger remaining is if either of them gets akumatized, and then neither of them know where they would find her anyway, so it’s almost a non-issue. Marinette just needs to be careful from now on not to accidentally give away too many details that might lead them to her. Which, frankly, isn’t any different from usual, so it’s alright.

That said, the knowledge that there is apparently a whole other front to this battle with Hawk Moth does weigh heavily on Marinette’s shoulders. Daithi, and probably Haru, too, are fighting to keep people safe from a threat most don’t even realize exists. A threat that exists because of the repressed emotions of everyone trying to avoid Hawk Moth’s attention.

(Which Marinette is definitely adding to.)

It’s likely that the shadow nest won’t completely go away unless something is done about Hawk Moth first, which means Daithi and Haru are just holding the line while Marinette continues to struggle to end things on her side.

Which means more pressure, which means more stress, which means more repression to avoid an akuma, which means stronger shadows… What a disgusting spiral of stress they’ve fallen into. At least she can take solace in the fact that, according to the two persona users, the shadows they’re fighting are linked to the _collective_ unconscious, so though she does contribute to it, her lonely stress of being Ladybug shouldn’t significantly impact the shadows.

It’s more of a city-wide stress and repression thing that does that. Thanks, Hawk Moth.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Marinette looks up. It’s rare that Daithi starts a conversation. Usually, if a customer doesn’t start talking to him, he doesn’t speak up much. Marinette thinks he’s just wary of giving his customers their space, though she suspects it’s also true that he’s just not a super talkative person.

Daithi places his phone on the counter, turning it to face her and pushing it closer. Red Robin and Sitri both lean over her shoulders to look at the screen, which has the Ladyblog pulled up on the browser.

“You’ve given interviews to the one who runs this blog before,” Daithi says. “Do you keep up with her?”

Marinette eyes the phone warily. The article currently on full display, to Marinette’s great pain, is one using Lila as a source. But more importantly, if Daithi is looking into Alya, he’s likely to run across Marinette, which is a problem considering he would immediately recognize her as Ladybug.

But if he has looked into it, he wouldn’t be asking if she knows.

But what does she say, with Red Robin and Sitri also looking at her so curiously?

“I keep an eye on her. Used to be convenient to have a reporter I could trust.”

“Used to?” Sitri asks. Marinette grimaces. She doesn’t mean to say that. She _does_ still trust Alya. As a friend. As a journalist… she can’t deny being torn on supporting the Ladyblog as Ladybug anymore. If she continues to endorse the site, people will think that Lila’s lies on there are actually true.

Red Robin snorts. “Used to. Yeah, she’s got promise, but someone needs to remind her to fact check before she falls too deep in that hole.”

Sitri shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t keep up with hero news. No offense.”

“None taken,” Marinette says. “Why do you want to know, Daithi?”

Daithi purses his lips. “We’ve been talking with the boss about looking into that source of hers. The one that’s either always wrong or always lying.”

The petty, vindictive part of Marinette’s heart laughs _hard_ at Daithi pinpointing Lila’s lies without even knowing her name. God, what a blessing this man is.

“Looking into?” Red Robin asks. “Why? And to do what?”

“Ah, right, we didn’t get to that.” Daithi sighs. “Well, you remember the rumors Sitri was spreading about this place early on?”

Sitri gasps in mock shock. “They aren’t rumors if they’re true!”

“Well, they’re true. Sort of.” He shrugs. “We couldn’t tell you because you didn’t know about persona, but in the collective unconscious, it’s possible to come across people’s shadows. And, we mean _people’s_ shadows, not the collective shadows.”

Marinette frowns. “So, you want to go after the source’s shadow?”

“Maybe,” Daithi says. “We’re not sure yet. The Ladyblog is one of the more popular sources of its kind, and some of the stuff that’s starting to show up on there is only going to make the situation worse. If we can find the source’s shadow, we can… well, I’m sure Red Robin has looked into the Tokyo Phantom Thieves by now? That. Change their heart. It would most likely stop the lying, if it is lying. If it’s not, then we probably won’t be able to find them, anyway. Got to be pretty distorted to show up in the collective unconscious as a personal shadow.”

Daithi, without even knowing the situation or even having met Lila, is offering to just… solve Marinette’s Lila problem? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. She probably does deserve a change of heart, though.

“You can do that?” Red Robin asks. “I mean, I suspected, but… why haven’t you just done that to Sitri’s dad?”

Sitri snorts. “I told him not to.”

Daithi smiles. “We’ve got him marked, you know. As soon as you stop being so stubborn…”

“Have you met me? I’m never going to stop being stubborn. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m going to win fair and square. Once I do, then you can do whatever you want to him.”

“And I will.”

Marinette’s mind is still on Lila. “Why target the source?” She asks.

Daithi shrugs. “It makes more sense. I doubt the blogger herself is distorted enough for it to be possible to target her. Besides that, the anonymous source won’t make as big of a splash as the blogger. As for why do it at all, it’s just an attempt to stop misinformation and the terror it could cause. As we said, we’re still not sure it’s a good idea. We’re just looking into a possibility. We’re just concerned that she’s spreading lies about you. If this keeps going, the image Paris has of you will change, and once that happens, the likelihood of you accidentally causing some kind of mass distress, even just by doing what you’ve always done, goes up.

“Besides… it’s sort of a persona thing. Lies suck. Mass lies even more so. Lies like this, on such a big platform, cause mass distortion, which affects the shadows.”

“Huh.” Marinette isn’t sure what to think about that. Distortion. Something about Lila is definitely distorted. Would it… would it hurt just to give him a name? If nothing comes of it, then she can’t imagine how it could hurt, and if he does change her heart… oh, this is too tempting.

“So, what are you looking for?” Red Robin asks. “If Ladybug doesn’t know, I could probably find it. Seems like a good cause, and I trust you’ll investigate before messing with people’s hearts.”

“Naturally,” Daithi says. “We’re just concerned right now, so a name we could look into would help. Once we make a decision, we can let you know before we do anything if you’d like, or we could just do it.”

Except if he investigates Lila, there’s a good chance he’ll stumble across Marinette. It really is _far_ too tempting, considering that. But… “Is that really necessary?”

It kind of hurts Marinette’s heart to be doing this, and she isn’t ignorant of how similar she’s sounding to Adrien right now, but Daithi looking into Lila and discovering Marinette’s secret identity is _definitely_ a bad thing.

Marinette forges on for that reason alone. Far be it from her to protect Lila, but she does have to protect herself. “I mean, changing someone’s heart seems kind of drastic for just lying to a reporter. It might make more sense to try a different angle first, if anything needs to be done about it at all.”

Daithi inclines his head. “You’re probably right. As we said, we were just thinking of looking into it. There are definitely no plans to change any hearts just yet. If it makes you uncomfortable, we have no reason to push it. We’ll keep watching the Ladyblog, but so long as it doesn’t get significantly worse, we can let it go.”

Red Robin eyes her, but eventually shrugs. “Well, whatever. If you do decide to go through with it, I can help. Probably. Changing a heart sounds fun, even if you aren’t going to allow me into the collective unconscious.”

Daithi laughs. “Not a chance. Not without good reason.”

“Aw, boo,” Sitri whines playfully. “I was hoping someone would get their ass kicked.”

“Oh?” Red Robin leans in. “Does changing a heart require a fight?”

“Usually, yes,” Daithi says. “Most shadows aren’t receptive to words, though it’s been known to happen.”

Sitri snickers, leaning closer to Red Robin. “You would not believe how hot this man is when he’s fighting.”

Red Robin laughs. “He’s a good fighter, then?”

“Well, he has to deal with all the idiots who can’t control themselves. Specifically, the magical ones. So, yeah. Plus, he’s always fighting shadows. God, I wish I could go with him just to watch.”

Daithi clears his throat. “Excuse us, M. Sitri. Are you sure you don’t want to order something? You seem thirsty.”

Without missing a beat, Sitri shifts to lean more over the counter, towards Daithi, and winks. “Oh, I am. Got anything _special_ for me?”

Though Red Robin laughs and Marinette covers her face, Daithi’s expression is utterly professional and polite as he grabs a glass and, without breaking eye contact with Sitri, fills it with straight tap water. “Just for you,” Daithi says as he places it on the counter.

Sitri breaks. Daithi does not. When Sitri can breathe again, he picks up the tap water and turns to Red Robin and Marinette. “And this, my friends,” he says, pointing to the glass, “is how he tells me he’s done with my flirting. Frankly, I’m just surprised this is the first time you’ve seen it.”

“You do flirt a lot,” Red Robin says. “But usually only with Daithi.”

Sitri shrugs. “Because I know he doesn’t mind and will tell me when to stop. I would with you more, but, eh, D hasn’t gotten tired of me until now.”

“Just me?” Red Robin asks. “Not Ladybug?”

“Don’t you dare drag me into this,” Marinette says, despite not managing to keep the smile off her face.

Sitri just holds up his hands. “The lady wouldn’t appreciate it,” he says. “I get a sense for these things, you know. Flirting’s no fun if the other person isn’t into it. Plus, it’s just rude.”

“Fair enough,” Red Robin says. “By the way, how’re things going with you?”

Sitri brightens, smile widening even further. “I’ve got a few auditions lined up, actually! With luck, I’ll have some steadier work. Then, it’s only a matter of time.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah! And I’ve sent an application to a bunch of other places, too. Ideally, I’ll get a job somewhere I can dance, but, you know, I won’t complain so long as I’m free.”

* * *

“Lucky Charm!”

This is bad. This damn akuma isn’t giving them any room to breathe. Marinette catches the lucky charm and rolls out of the way of a batarang.

A series of bad luck and foolish decisions land them in this situation, really. On the surface, this akuma shouldn’t be _that_ terrible to deal with. The problem arises when they successfully use their power on not one, but _all three_ of the heroes. Now they’re so busy dealing with copies of themselves that the akuma, creatively named Doppelgänger, is running circles around them.

And when Marinette finally finds an opening to check her lucky charm and make a plan, she can only groan. _This is definitely the same cup they use at Café Noir,_ she thinks.

It’s a gamble, bringing in Daithi. First of all, Hawk Moth doesn’t know about him, so bringing him in now is showing their hand, even if Daithi isn’t involved in looking for the villain. The good thing, though, is that if she takes off to retrieve him, he’ll likely be passed off as just another temporary hero. She just has to remember to go with him a ways after the battle, too.

But it’s also risky because these copies have their same powers, and while Marinette can see Daithi’s power being useful here, the opposite is also true. If he gets hit and a copy is made from him, that might be game over for them.

But Marinette’s lucky charm hasn’t led her wrong, yet. It’s a shame, though. He doesn’t fight for a reason. He’s already so busy with other things and says himself that he hates fighting. Hopefully, though, if her lucky charm is leading her to him, he’s not occupied at the moment.

(Tikki’s magic, somehow, seems to work out like that, so she’s not worried.)

Marinette reports on the coms to Chat Noir and Red Robin and swings away, trusting the boys to handle the situation just a little longer.

When she bursts through the back door of Café Noir, she isn’t surprised to see Daithi there. The place isn’t open yet, so there’s no reason for him to be standing out front. She quickly explains the situation, shows him her lucky charm, and reflexively takes cover behind the island when her transformation drops.

Daithi sighs. “Oh, great.” he says.

“Let’s do it!” Akkro chirps. “Time to kick butt!”

“…Fine.” Akkro cheers, though Daithi sounds less than enthused about the situation. “I suspected this was going to happen sooner or later, anyway. What’s the situation?”

Marinette explains the akuma while Tikki eats, so that by the time she’s transformed again, Daithi is completely caught up.

“And the copies,” he says. “Magical constructs or transformed people?”

“Constructs.”

“Cool. Then I can just shoot them.”

“Excuse me. What?”

Daithi smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Akkro. Time to go.” He touches his armlet, the Miraculous, and Akkro cheers some more as he dives straight in. _No trigger words for the transformation?_ Marinette thinks as Daithi is engulfed in light. _Huh. I suspected they weren’t necessary, but I guess… I should leave that for later._

When the light fades, the sight makes Marinette’s chest constrict a little. Daithi is decked out like any other Miraculous user of course, but notably, he has armor plates across his chest and shoulders that remind Marinette painfully of Master Fu’s transformation.

Unlike Fu, though, Daithi’s armor is more European in design, like an adaptation of an old-fashioned knight. Across his chest, segmented down his abs, across his back, too with arm guards to supplement the pauldrons. Even his legs have armor plating across his thighs and his boots may as well be greaves.

All black, of course, just like Akkro. Or maybe a really dark brown? It’s warmly tinged, is all Marinette can tell in this lighting.

On his head is a black visor covering the upper part of his face. His eyes and brows, from normal angles, are completely hidden, though he raises it for a moment, as if testing its hinges, letting Marinette see the black domino mask no different from everyone else’s as well.

Oh, yeah, and he has a gun. Two guns, really, in two holsters on his hips, but the holster on his left side has the familiar silver of his evoker, whereas the holster on his right has a handgun the exact same warm black color as the rest of his outfit.

They head outside, and Marinette is in the middle of thinking that there is _no way_ his Miraculous just gives him a _gun_ , when he unlatches a ribbon from his waist, just like her yo-yo string, with a small cylindrical handle on the end. _One of those ribbon dance wands?_

Yes, it’s exactly that, but also, he smiles at her and the thing elongates like Chat’s baton, then splits at the end, until he’s holding a bident with a ribbon hanging like a standard. “Lead the way, Mlle. Ladybug,” he says.

Whatever. She can worry about the details when her boys aren’t in the middle of fighting for their lives. She tosses him a communicator and tunes back in to Chat and Red Robin before leading the way. “You’re going to need a name.” She reminds him.

She can’t see his expression behind that visor (and it’s definitely a super, super dark brown, now that she can finally see it in the sunlight), but he does smile. “A codename? Hm. How about Marauder?”

Red Robin’s voice crackles through the coms. “Please tell me that’s an ant joke, because we could really use you right now if you’re who I’m thinking you are.”

“It is,” Marauder says simply. “We’re on our way. Priority?”

“Copy-Me is causing a lot of damage!” Chat Noir says. “Him, then Copy-Bug.”

“Understood. I’ll see if I can take out Copy-Chat by surprise. Ladybug?”

“Good idea,” She says. “Chat, Red Robin, and I will keep the others busy and most importantly, keep Doppelgänger off of you. Do what you can to set us up, Chat, Red, we’re about thirty seconds out.”

They rush to their positions, Marinette diving straight into the fray when they get there, and Marauder dropping into a nearby alley. It’s a good position. Red Robin has the Copy-Chat in the street near Marauder, and the Copy-Bug is over there, too, while Chat Noir and Marinette have the Copy-Red and Doppelgänger a short distance away.

“Just double-checking,” Marauder’s voice appears over the coms, “these are magical constructs, right? So lethal force is okay?”

“Wait, what?” Chat asks.

“Yep,” Red Robin says. “Go wild. Just not Doppelgänger herself.”

“Understood. Engaging Copy-Chat.”

Though she has a fight to focus on already, Marinette can’t help but spare a look over to Marauder. This is the first time she’ll be seeing him fight, so it ought to be interesting.

He darts in, catching the copy by surprise, and in a single motion lunges with his bident, catching Copy-Chat’s neck between the prongs, slips past him, and twists the bident to send Copy-Chat flipping head-over-heels, by his neck, landing hard on the asphalt.

Marinette winces.

Then, holding the copy’s upper body up by his neck in the prongs of the bident, Marauder draws the gun on his right side, lines it up with the back of the dazed Copy-Chat’s head, and pulls the trigger. Copy-Chat vanishes. Thank god for that. Marinette doesn’t know what she’d do if that bullet did anything _but_ just make the copy disappear.

“Holy shit, dude!” Chat Noir yowls.

“You said lethal force was okay,” Marauder says, concerned. “It vanished, so I know I didn’t kill anyone. Right?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Red Robin says. “Just kind of brutal.”

Marinette sees Chat Noir uncertainly rub his neck. …Yeah, she’s not so sure about this, either. It must be worse for him considering he’s both much less familiar with Daithi than she and Red Robin are, and also the copy that Marauder just executed is an exact copy of him. Poor kitty. Marinette herself is feeling a little green.

“Well,” Marauder says, “I’ve got Chat’s power now. If you need a second Cataclysm, give the word.”

“Good,” Marinette says. “Back up Red Robin with Copy-Bug. And, uh… maybe give a shout so I know not to look if you pull that again.”

“…Oh. Sorry. To you, especially, Chat. I should’ve warned y’all.”

“It’s okay,” Chat Noir squeaks. “I just was not expecting that. At all.”

“…He did say he was using lethal force, to be fair,” Red Robin says.

Marinette sighs. “I’m suddenly very concerned about Americans.”

“Gothamite,” Red Robin says simply.

“Shadow exterminator.” Marauder adds helpfully.

“You’re not helping,” Marinette says.

“Damn it,” Red Robin calls, “Copy-Bug just summoned her lucky charm. It- Oh, a gun, _so original_ \- We’re going to need back-up here. Marauder and I are pinned!”

“Chat Noir!” Marinette calls. “Switch with Red Robin! The lucky charm was called to stop those two; you should be able to tip the scales.”

“On it, my lady!”

Alone momentarily, Marinette can’t spare much attention to what’s going on with the boys’ battle. Red Robin, and thus the copy of him, is an extremely skilled fighter. In normal circumstances, he’s a _better_ fighter than her. It’s Doppelgänger getting in the way because of the akuma’s usual tendency to think with nothing but their emotions that evens the odds for her.

But she hears gunfire, crashing, screams over the coms and in real life, then Red Robin is with her, tangling with his own copy, to give her just a little bit of breathing room.

The fight goes on, Marinette is considering when to summon her own lucky charm, then Marauder grunts over the coms. “Heads up. Using lethal force.”

Marinette glances over, sees her clone glaring up at Marauder, pinned to the asphalt by the bident forked around her throat, sees Marauder coolly draw the dark-colored gun on his right side, and quickly, quickly looks away.

There’s a gunshot, then Marauder back on coms. “Got Lucky Charm.”

“You have combat experience,” Red Robin says. “Training, I mean.”

“Yeah, my mentors taught me a lot, then my boss and her friends when I started fighting shadows.”

Marinette hums. Two enemies left, four of them, Red Robin’s copy is the biggest threat, honestly, and Marinette would rather not find out if a copy-Marauder would also be able to use both Lucky Charm and Cataclysm now, plus two who have actual combat training beyond what Red Robin has managed to teach them.

It’s an obvious next step. “Chat, with me. Marauder, with Red.”

“Makes sense.”

“You got it, my lady.”

Doppelgänger is a slippery one, and so is Red Robin, so the next phase of the battle takes much longer than the previous two. Marinette tries not to think about how easily Marauder kills both her and Chat Noir’s copies, but she is immensely thankful that he’s on their side. She’s… probably not as surprised as she should be that he doesn’t hesitate even a moment to pull the trigger when his target is an exact replica of his teammates, considering the whole shooting _himself_ thing, but still… yikes. And how tough are shadows, exactly, if this is the level of force he uses here?

“You’re good at this yourself, M. Red Robin,” Marauder’s voice says over the coms.

Red Robin grunts, parrying an attack from his double. “Thanks. Sitri was right about you looking good when you fight.”

Marauder deflects a punch from the copy with his bident, then wraps up the copy’s arm in the ribbon on his weapon and ducks under to pin it to the copy’s back. “Anything worth doing is worth doing with style,” Marauder says. “If you think my coffee is good, the one who told me that might send you straight to heaven.”

Red Robin follows up on Marauder’s opening with an attack, but the copy manages to worm loose before either Red Robin’s attack can hit, or Marauder can wrap the extra ribbon around his throat. “There’s _more_ of you? After you and your boss, I was sure no one else could possibly make coffee that good.”

Marauder laughs. “Oh, no. You see, my boss taught me, but this guy taught my boss. And the one who taught _him_ is still kicking, too.”

“Ladybug, I’m demanding a coffee world tour.”

Marinette snorts. “Find Hawk Moth for us, then we’ll talk.”

“I might just do that.”

“I thought _I_ was the one with bad timing for flirting,” Chat Noir mumbles.

“Chat’s right,” Marinette says, “we all need to focus.”

“Once you’ve done this with Red Hood and Nightwing in your ear, you can do it with anything,” Red Robin says casually.

Marinette ducks under Doppelgänger’s attack. “We’re not getting anywhere with this.” She sighs. “Lucky Charm!”

“Hey, I’ll join you,” Marauder says. “Lucky Charm!”

“That is so weird,” Chat says. “You really do have Ladybug’s powers.”

“I have yours too, M. Chat Noir. Or the copy’s anyway.”

She catches the charm, eyes Marauder’s charm as well, and makes her plan. “Marauder, can I have that?”

“Of course, Mademoiselle. Red Robin?”

“You got ten seconds.”

Three seconds later, Marinette finds Marauder’s charm in her hands alongside her own. Then, it’s just a matter of assembly.

“Alright everybody. Let’s end this,” She says. “Chat Noir, left side, Marauder, right. We’re going to trap Doppelgänger with the streetlights.”

“What about Copy-Red?” Chat asks.

“Leave it to us,” Red Robin says. “Marauder will be in position when you give the signal.”

Marinette eyes Doppelgänger, running full tilt at them right down the street, then to Marauder, who is flipping over Copy-Red in a move ripped straight out of Marinette’s own handbook, using his ribbon wand as that for once instead of a bident to twirl the ribbon around the copy from mid-air.

Doppelgänger is close. Marauder turns the wand back into a bident and uses it to tighten the ribbon like a tourniquet, then Red Robin takes some extra ribbon to hog-tie his copy while Marauder takes the end up over the nearby lamppost- oh, Marinette sees what they’re doing now.

Also, that ribbon extends seemingly indefinitely just like her yo-yo string. Good to know.

(It’s a very pretty ribbon. The designer in Marinette _really_ wishes it weren’t magic so she could cut off some to use for her projects.)

Marauder is just finishing up tying the end of the ribbon to the lamppost they’re planning to destroy when Marinette throws the lucky charm. Or bowls it. It rolls right under Doppelgänger’s feet, sends them rolling forward, unable to stop, and as both Chat Noir and Marauder use Cataclysm on the opposite lampposts, Marinette uses her yo-yo to make a net between the two falling posts.

They trap Doppelgänger under the yo-yo net, and Copy-Red is strung up and left to hang from the next post over.

That’s that, then. Marinette finds the akumatized object, breaks it, and that’s all she wrote. Another loss for Hawk Moth.

“Good job, everyone,” Marinette says, smiling at her team. She exchanges customary fist-bumps, then the beeping of her earrings notifies her that it’s time to go. “Marauder, come with me.”

He seems to understand what she’s after immediately, and the others nod along after only a second of hesitation. Though Marauder is technically a permanent hero, in that he holds his Miraculous permanently, Hawk Moth doesn’t need to know that, and Alya is already on the scene, so Paris will know if they go off in separate directions.

“A new hero!” Speaking of Alya. “You made quite an entrance! Already people are commenting that your methods seem much harsher than Ladybug and Chat Noir’s. What do we call you? Any words for the people of Paris?”

Already she’s shoving her phone into Marauder’s face. “Oh, this part,” he groans quietly. Louder, for Alya and the camera, he says, “No comment. Please excuse me, Mademoiselle. We must be going.”

He makes his escape, but Marinette decides to at least let Alya know what to call him before she comes up with a name that sticks before following him.

“Not a fan of the press?” She asks when she finds him a short distance away.

“I deal with the community, Mlle. Ladybug. Attention is _always_ a bad thing.”

She giggles. He does have a point. “I’m sorry to put you in that position, then.”

Marauder pauses, sighs, then lifts his visor to look at her. A smile dances across his lips. “Please, think nothing of it. I’m happy to help.”

“Yeah? I know you’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Mm, but this is important, too. My role is to support the community, Mlle. Ladybug. That includes you. Please don’t hesitate to call on me again if you need me.”

He holds out a hand, and Marinette grins as she takes it to shake. “Thank you. Your support will definitely help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Even I didn't ask for this. It just happened. Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful day! Stay safe, y'all! :3


End file.
